My mom is a hero! A life-saver! SIMPLY THE BEST

For you Mummy!

What a wonderful mother I have. When a sudden illness took me by surprise Thursday morning and I had to cancel our long-planned "girls weekend" trip to Canmore, she was understanding and sympathetic. Not only did our awesome trip get cancelled, but the day that we were to have left was her 50th birthday, and that weekend away was supposed to have been like a celebratory event in honor of her milestone. I felt like an utter heel. She'd even booked days off for it.

(The trip to Canmore was actually for Ardan's hockey tournament, Hubs ended up going with the older boys, leaving me at home with No.3 and No.4).

Friday night Mom made arrangements to take little Lena off my exhausted hands, and on Saturday when she called to check up on me, it was apparent that looking after Rydermonster, I mean Ryderman, was too much for me, so she took him as well, with no qualms or hesitation. Kept him for the night.

Its embarrassing to admit, but I spent the majority of the time in bed. Shivering with the cold sweats, huddled up to my two heating pads, dragging my butt out of bed every eight hours or so to chug back water and meds, and reheat my two new "best friends". My empty stomach churned and begged for sustenance but even the thought of having to chew food gave me the heaves.

Sunday morning, today, mom stopped by long enough to get more diapers and clothes for Ryder and to fill me in on their current antics. Mom reassured me they were doing fine and that I should crawl back into bed and call her when I felt more up to snuff. Thanks to the awesome pain pills I popped for my recurring headache, I'm feeling better. But as soon as I hit 'publish' on this post, I've got a date with my blanket and pillow. I just wanted to post this as a huge 'thank you!' to the most wonderful mother in the world.

Smooth as a baby's bum

Can you believe that in all my year's of plucking, tweezing, shaving and using depilatories, I've never thought to have my eyebrows professionally waxed? I know, me either!

Gunnar asked to get a haircut before his game last night and as I was booking the appointment, it occurred to me that I should just go for it. So I made an appointment to get my brows done as he was getting his hair cut.

It only took like ten minutes, not even, the pain wasn't too bad (I mean, I have birthed four children, my pain tolerance is incredible), and I am just in LOVE with the results! I didn't need to have them shaped, I think I've done a fair job of that myself, but all those baby-fine hairs that are impossible to pluck just drive me nuts!

Wow, do they ever look nice now. I can't believe I didn't do this sooner! The skin surrounding my brows is sooo soft now, like a baby's bum! Lena kept "petting" my eyebrows last night, smoothing her fingers over them, back and forth. She couldn't believe it either, haha.

Almost makes me consider getting other body parts waxed....

NAH. Not quite that brave.

Oooo, those rotten kids!

I guess you could say I've always had a slight case of the "nerves", you know, jumping out of my skin when there's a sudden loud noise. For some reason, its gotten worse over the years. You should see me at the arena when the kids are blasting pucks at the sideboard. I probably look like a marionette being jerked around on its strings. Its so embarrassing. I try, really I do, to brace myself for it if I know the noise is coming, and yet... BANG! And I'm outta my seat.

Of course, Hubs and the kids are fully aware of this. Its especially bad when I'm in the laundry room, back facing the door as I stand folding laundry, and suddenly one of them will be behind me, "Mom" and its like I've been poked with a cattle prod. I'm not the nicest person either when they do that to me. "What the?!? Don't DO that! You know I'm jumpy!" and they'll laugh hysterically and run off.

One time, during our early days as a couple, Ty thought it would be funny to hide behind the shower curtain in the bathroom when I was going to take a shower. I'm sure you can imagine my reaction. Ya, hardy har har! Bet he didn't like it too much when I whipped my towel at his ass and took off a layer of skin! Muahaha. Served him right.

And it seems like the kids will go through phases, where they'll forget about my nerves and leave me alone, then one of them will remember and for the next week, all of them are constantly jumping out at me. "Got her again! Hahahaha!" I've been lucky for the last few months that they were in that 'forgetting' stage, but last night it all started up again.

I was at the computer, quite involved in what I was reading, and suddenly there was a loud "BOO!" right in my ear! I probably jumped two feet in the air, arms flailing, "Whaaaa......!" Oh, Gunnar thought he was the king after that. After I finished yelling at him (I may have told him to piss off, I know, I'm a horrible mom!), I settled back in, sure that no one would even dare to try it again. You'd think I'd know better. Not two minutes later, "BOO!" right in the same ear, only it was Ardan this time. Even the threat of grounding didn't halt their maniacal laughter.

They got me again a few hours later, as I was about to sit on the couch. "BOO!" "Okay that's IT! Get your butts in bed. Right. NOW!"

Then again this morning as I was, you got it, in the laundry room folding.

So that's it. Time for a little revenge, I'm thinking. I seem to remember an old trick Trapper and I would play on little Levi, involving a wolf-pelt and hiding at the bottom of the stairs waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Muah ah ah ah!!!!

Oh, its ON.

Just gotta brag

Its that time of year again: Report Cards!

Elementary school report cards are so different now than when I was growing up. They don't grade by A's, B's, C's, etc anymore. Heck, they don't even 'grade'! There's no "87% in science" or whatever. No, nowadays, its all done using the standards: GL - achieving grade level; BL - beginning to achieve grade level; NY - not yet achieving grade level; or M, modified program. These standards are used to rate the progress the child is making in each subject. It is kind of neat that they break each subject down into every single concept the child has learned; so under English Language Arts there might be up to 15 different things being 'graded'. This way the parents can see just what all has been taught and where their child was having difficulty, and then focus on helping them in those areas.

Also (at least in my boys' school), they rate the student's 'growth as a learner', using the standards: U = usually, S = sometimes, N = needs improvement. This is for things like 'accepts responsibility for his/her own behaviour', 'is organized', 'uses time effectively', etc. I'm actually glad they do that for us parents, letting us know which areas of behaviour our child is excelling at or having problems with.

Of course, with my two perfect, wonderful, brilliant, well-behaved geniuses, I always know how the report cards will play out. All GLs, all U's. (Actually, I think one time Gunnar got a S(ometimes) for 'listens to and follows directions' because he was goofing off in class with his BFF.) I tend to skim through the report card, looking for the part where the teacher writes his/her comments. That's what I want to see. I already know my child is brilliant in math, I already know he's organized, yadda yadda. But I want to hear the teacher tell me that! Its a pride thing, people. Haha.

I remember one time when Gunnar was in kindergarten at that school, the teacher wrote something like how she couldn't believe how mature and advanced Gunn's behaviour was compared to all the other kids (who were a year older than him). She explained further that while Gunnar would sit nicely in his desk, "ready and waiting to learn", the other kids would be crawling on the floor, climbing on their desks, and eating glue. Haha! And Gunnar would look at them like What is WRONG with you? and just act like they were all beneath him, which they were, of course. Oops, there's that pride again.

So, anyway, here are the comments that the teachers gave my boys (just FYI, Ardan is in grade 1, Gunnar in grade 5)...

"Ardan is developing strength and fluency as a reader. He is using many reading strategies such as reading ahead and context clues. Ardan can give detailed answers to comprehensive questions. He has developed an excellent sight word vocabulary. When writing, Ardan can generate interesting and unique ideas and relate them to the same topic. He incorporates the correct spelling of many of the sight words and attempts to sound out many unknown words. Ardan is beginning to use capitals, spaces and punctuation. He is able to print the letters neatly on the lines. Ardan is confident with the consonant and vowel sounds that we have been studying. He demonstrates a very good understanding of the math concepts covered. Ardan is a dedicated and independent learner!"

"Gunnar continues to demonstrate strong Math skills through his understanding of basic, as well as complex, multiplication and division concepts. Gunnar has shown confidence in his grasp of Chemistry by demonstrating a well-rounded knowledge of the material we have covered. Gunnar's writing continues to show creativity and thought as he competently communicates his ideas. Gunnar does a great job of recognizing words that are problematic and he consistently desires accuracy in the words that he uses. It was great to see him do such a tremendous job learning and speaking his lines in his role as 'Rock' for the Christmas play. Mr Lynn says, 'In Social, Gunnar consistently provides enough facts in his responses which are tied in effectively with the question to explain why or why not the people in the region are affected by certain things. He has demonstrated an ability to justify his opinion with effective supporting information. Gunnar worked well with his partner on the region of Canada PowerPoint presentation.' Gunnar's positive attitude significantly enhances the atmosphere of our classroom. It will be exciting to follow his progress throughout the final term."

** !! applause !! **

Instant regret

Have you ever sent out an email where, immediately after you hit 'send' you were struck by the realization that you shouldn't have done that? Maybe you were too emotional, or angry, or gave TMI. And then all you can do afterwards is sit and stew in your regret, anxious to get the reply back and see how the person will respond.

Usually you only have to do that once (like drinking from a ashtray pop can) because the guilt and/or anxiety you feel is so traumatizing, you never do it again. Although sometimes, the only way to express those feelings and say your piece is through an email, rather than face-to-face or over the phone.

Ah, well, guess I'll never learn...

My Little Black(mail) Book

Lena's birthday party was today, and we had a houseful (even though many people couldn't make it due to the INSANE snowstorm we had today that made most roads treacherous). My beautiful sister-in-law Julie was there with three of her five boys (I know, right? She's a saint. And don't you dare ask me when I'm going to "catch up to her"! LOL).

She told us how she has kept kind of a 'little black book' over the years of all the crazy, horrible, hilarious things her children have done. Such as her boys opening every single one of her just-made jars of homemade jam and smearing it all over the cat and the walls downstairs. Or them getting a hold of a 5 gallon jug of cooking oil and pouring the entire thing on the carpet. *laughing*

All mothers have had experiences like that, myself included. And so that got me to thinking that I should start up my own Little Black Book. But whereas Julie is doing it as a remembrance of her children's antics, my own motives are less noble. Blackmail, baby!

Oh yeah, I'm planning on making my kids pay for all the angst they've inspired over the years. Muahaha! When Gunnar and/or Ardan is in the NHL or are a world-famous dirtbiker (monster truck driver in Ard's case) or in a rock band -- and these are all real aspirations for them -- I'm going to pull out my book and remind them of a few certain things. If they have any sense of guilt, they'll repay my mental and emotional trauma with something a little more substantial. Like, oh, say, a cabin-mansion. Or an all-expense paid trip to wherever. Getting to name their firstborn (I like Rhannon, don't you? Its from Willow).

Here's a few...

** When Ardan was a toddler, he "christened" his newly-painted-and-decorated bedroom by removing his dirty diaper and grinding the contents into huge patches of carpet. When I walked in and discovered this, I realized that no amount of scrubbing or pulling or even a professional cleaning (which was definitely out of the question, money-wise, back then) was going to get rid of it and I did the only thing I could... I had to get a box-cutter and CUT OUT those huge sections. Then try to find an area rug in that particular shape to hide the giant holes in the carpet.

** Around that same time, Gunnar (who was probably five or so) accidentally destroyed a huge pile of his dad's prized dirtbike magazines when he spilled a jug of juice on them. He had been too impatient to wait for me to finish folding laundry in my bedroom and took it upon himself to pour a cup. Unbeknownst to me, he then (frantically, before it was discovered) came up with the brilliant idea to dry them all out in the microwave. The smell of burning brought me out of the bedroom in a rush. Thick black smoke was billowing out of the microwave! Just as I was about to open the door to make the microwave stop cooking, fire broke out inside. I quickly filled a cup with dishwater from the sink full of soaking dishes, opened the door and dashed the water inside. When the fire was finally out and the smoke had somewhat cleared, I noticed that the time display was off. The machine was completely dead. Gunnar was so terrified of what my reaction would be, and I knew he felt so bad, and had gotten a real scare by the fire. So I didn't freak out. But I did tell Hubs that the machine mysteriously died for no apparent reason. Eventually I 'fessed up, and now we all laugh about it. But at the time it really sucked, because Ard was still on bottles and until we could afford to buy a new mikey, I was having to heat up his bottles in a pot of hot water on the stove.

** We were at Family Dinner at my mom's one time; it was summer and everyone was in the backyard on the deck, chatting and visiting. The baby was being fussy, I think it was Lena but it could have been Ryder (think I can get double blackmail from this if I tell each kid it was them that did it? lol). Suddenly, the baby sprayed my entire front with puke!! It was sooo gross. Everyone was laughing hysterically at me while I just stood there like, "Now what?" Got the baby changed into fresh clothes and calmed down, then palmed it off on someone and went inside to find something of my mom's to wear. Now, she's tiny so I knew there would probably be nothing that would fit, but she went through her closet for me anyway. She brought me out a pile of clothes which I could tell from looking that the majority would be too small. One shirt in particular looked like it might fit but I was so torn! It was the ugliest shirt I'd ever seen in my life! I mean, seriously. A cross between mustard-yellow and burnt-pumpkin, with ruffles around the collar reminiscent of Shakespeare's ruffed collar. A slick, slimy feel to the fabric. The fabric itself was vertically crimped like a fan, with thousands of tiny pleats. PLEATS, people! I looked at my brother's girlfriend, who had come into the house with us. She looked at me. Both of us were thinking the same thing, "Hell no!" But did I really want to stay in my puke-soaked shirt? It was a real dilemma. Finally I couldn't stand the smell of myself any longer and went to try the shirt on. It fit and so I really had no excuse not to wear it. Mom was ecstatic, "Oh, you look so nice! Don't you love this shirt? Its so beautiful!" Becky and I both did double-takes at her and she noticed. "What? You don't think so?" Mom, I hate to break it to you, but... honestly, that shirt is just... ohgod, its bad! Its so bad! Its ugly! She was shocked, couldn't believe I thought that. "Do you think so too, Becky?" Yeah, Kelle, its... bad. Like... BAD. She thought we were nuts. Becky gave me a look like "Poor you!" and I nodded back, "Yes, poor me!" So I had to wear that circus-clown-freak-on-a-bad-acid-trip shirt for the rest of the night. And so JUST FOR THAT, I don't even care about the actual puking (although it IS what led up to having to wear that shirt!), that is what is worthy of blackmail. If I had a picture of the shirt to show my kids, they'd double the payment, I'm sure.

** Speaking of puke, there's the 100+ times that Ryder has upchucked during the last year and a half. Sometimes on me, but mostly on himself, the carpet, his bedding, the carseat, other people's carpet... Now, a baby's involuntary puking would not be considered blackmail material, unless said baby had actually developed a highly-sensitive gag reflex in order to get attention and his own way. This is how Ryder came to be known as Exorcist-Boy. He gradually stopped doing that (on purpose, I mean) and now he only hurls when he's having a coughing fit or tries to swallow huge chunks of food. Because he's a boy, impatient with the process of eating. He wants that food in his tummy now! ("Get in ma bellah!" -- anyone get that reference? 10 points if you do!) So last week, we were driving to Wetaskiwin for Gunnar's league play-off game. We were on Hwy 2 just out of Red Deer and the rush-hour traffic was INSANE; seriously, when did everyone in the world move to Red Deer? It was very stressful. Before we'd left Sylvan I had picked up sandwiches and Timbits for the kids, and even though the donuts were supposed to be saved for the arena, you know what kids are like. They had that box opened and half-devoured by the time we left Red Deer. So we're driving along about 20 minutes out of Red Deer and suddenly I hear Ardan yell, "AAAACKKKK! Moooooommmmm! Ryder puked!" The traffic was so terrible that I honestly could not take my eyes off the road for one second, so all I could do was ask Ardan, "What? Why? You gave him a whole Timbit and he shoved the entire thing in his mouth? How bad is it? Bad? Really, its that bad? Well... use the spare blanket in the back to wipe most of it up! Oh, you already did that and there's still major puke? Uhhh, okay, there's wipes in his bag, use those to wipe it up!" Poor poor Ardan. Because he was sitting next to Ryder he had to deal with that traumatizing mess. And it wasn't like I could even pull over at a roadside stop, because I never would have been able to merge back into the non-stop traffic. So little Ryder had to sit in his puke-soaked clothes for the entire way to Wetaskiwin, windows cracked to let in the fresh air, all of us breathing through our mouths. When we finally got to the arena I changed Ryd's clothes but realized I hadn't brought a spare coat. And even after cleaning his coat as best I could with wipes, it still reeked and was soaked. So I had to suffer the indignity of rummaging through the arena's lost and found, in front of all the other hockey parents, to try to find a spare coat or sweater he could wear. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a high-and-mighty priss, in fact I love going through lost-and-founds, looking for "treasures" -- but only when I'm alone and no one can see me. I felt like I had to make a big deal of the fact that I needed something for Ryder to wear, so they wouldn't think I was a poor desperate slob. Found him a hoody that required multiple sleeve roll-ups and looked like a dress on him, but hey it was warm. And even after all that, the stink of puke still clung to me for the rest of the night. I felt sorry for anyone sitting near me. But mostly I felt sorry for myself, haha. So yes, that is definitely blackmail material in my book.

** Here is a story that gets told often in our family. Milena had literally just been born, she was days old, and we were at the mall getting our taxes done. Ardan had just turned three and was entering a real talkative phase, where you never knew what would come out of his mouth. We usually got quite a kick out of him. Kids really do say the darndest things. Or, in some cases, the most incredibly embarrassing, awkward, rude, oblivious, innocent things. The lady doing our taxes was quite a, um, big lady. Like, really big. And she had some sort of speech impediment which honestly made her sound like she was mentally challenged. It became a real test of my endurance to show no reaction. Anyway, there we were, sitting in our chairs facing her, when Ardan looked at me and muttered something. I only caught one word, "fat", and having just birthed a child days before and feeling slightly self-conscious about my flabby tummy, I winced and said, "Ardan, you know Mommy just had a baby, that's why I'm fat." He stood up on his chair and turned to face the lady, pointing his little finger at her, "NO! I SAID THAT SHE'S FAT!" Oh... my... Gawd!! What does a person even say in a situation like that? "ARDAN! Sit. Down. And. Be. QUIET! Oh god, I'm so sorry! He's at this stage..." She handled it very gracefully, "That's okay. He's an honest boy." Well, what do you say to that? I think we all chose to just ignore what had happened and finish the taxes, but every so often I'd cut a glare at Ardan, telling him with my eyes: You sit there and be quiet and don't even move! At one point, after the tax lady had finished a lengthy speech about something, a speech in which her impediment was glaringly obvious, I was sitting there trying to keep a straight face, and Ardan pipes up, "She talks..." My head whipped toward him so fast, eyes probably looking like fiery lazers, and he got the message. Whew! Close call. This incident is the one that earned him the nickname Mouth.

Ghost Stories

(Levi, that title is a warning to you specifically, so if nightmares ensue, just know that "I warned you!")

My BFF Christine recently loaned me a book of hers called The Mammoth Book of True Hauntings, because she knows of my interest in the paranormal. While its been slow-going getting into the book (due to the lack of photos and the small font size), there have been a few things that have caught my interest and inspired remembrances of my own experiences with the supernatural.

I'm sure more people have had these sort of experiences than let on, maybe for fear of mockery or embarrassment. Or they are trying to convince themselves it didn't really happen, that they were mistaken or it has a rational explanation. And in some cases, that's probably true. 'Jack-o-lanterns' or 'will-o-the-wisps' (English and European folklore, respectively), while traditionally thought to describe the ghostly lights which hover over marshland or old graveyards and try to lure the unsuspecting to their death, are now more likely supposed to be the spontaneous igniting of gases escaping from rotting plant matter. (See, I did learn something from that book!)

I think everyone has had that 'ghost walking over my grave' moment where you experience a full-body shiver from out of nowhere. Did you know there is a European "ghost story" for that? According to Christine's book:

"Also known as 'The Graveyard Watcher', the Ankou is found all over Europe and is the spirit that guards cemeteries. The spirit originated from an ancient tradition that whenever a new cemetery was opened a selected victim would be buried alive to provide the place with a 'ghostly guardian'. In Great Britain, the Ankou is said to be the origin of the phrase used by people whenever they are struck by an involuntary shiver, 'Someone is walking over my grave'."

My own ghostly experiences have left me feeling at times puzzled, fearful, wondrous and confused. I can't explain why I experienced them, what they meant, if they were a sign of some sort, or even if I should have told someone about them at the time. Its very frustrating to not KNOW.

Both occurred in my early teens and I'm not sure if that is because that was the time I was most receptive to them, being in that nebulous child-woman stage. The first experience scared the living crap out of me, for weeks afterwards (until I made myself 'forget' simply to preserve my sanity); while the second inspired feelings of peace, happiness and sheer wonder.

I'm sure you're all wanting to hear about the "bad" experience first, right? Haha.

I was about 13-14, living on the acreage with my family (duh Beau). It was early morning, Mom had left for work and us kids were husslin' our butts to make it to the bus stop in time. If we had our it-shay together on a particular morning, we'd wait at the end of our driveway (if not, at the mailbox an hour later). Anyway, this morning we were on time and I remember that the boys had already left the house and I was locking up. The spring morning was damp and there was a low-lying mist hovering over the yard. As I took the short-cut through our yard to get to the end of the driveway, like I'd done a hundred times before, I had to pass by the maple tree. It seemed to have more mist surrounding it than the rest of the yard. This in itself "raised my hackles" -- the hair on the nape of my neck literally stood on end -- and as I got closer to the tree I started walking slower and slower. It wasn't even a conscious decision to slow down, it was more like my body was telling me "danger! be wary!" I came to a complete stop about ten feet from the tree. Through the white mist I could make out a dark shape. It was about hip-height and looked like the vague shape of a dark sitting dog. I exhaled a huge breath of relief. It was just one of the rotties! Yelled to Trapper, "Hey! You were supposed to put the dogs in the kennel!" He yelled back, "I did! Check for yourself!" Thinking he was lying and just being lazy to make me do it myself (like little brothers do), I stormed to the kennel to check. Sure enough, both dogs were in there! Then it hit me, "What the hell was that thing I saw?" Now, this is the point in the scary movie where you're screaming at the heroine on screen, "Stupid! Don't go back and check! What the hell is wrong with you?!" but of course, like the dumbass heroine I had to see it again with my own eyes, just to prove myself wrong. Crept back to the yard, hopeful yet full of dread, and yes, there it was, still there. Still seeming to look right at me, even though I couldn't discern any actual features. Looking back now, I'm truly amazed at what possessed me next. I braced myself and walked five feet from the tree, the dark outline of its shape becoming more clearer and yet still weirdly out-of-focus. Telling myself it was a stray dog that had made its way into our yard, I tried to scare it off, "Go away! Get! Go home!" Immediately a feeling like a rush of menace came at me and before my brain kicked in, my feet were moving; running in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I took the long way to the bus stop, sprinting up the entire driveway, panting hysterically and trying to get control of myself before my brothers noticed. I didn't want them to make fun of me, but more importantly I didn't want to scare the bejeebus out of them. I never saw the "ghost dog" again and I never told anyone either, but let me just say that it was about two weeks before I took the short-cut again. (I did get a lot of ribbing on that from my brothers, but I just told them I wanted the extra exercise -- yeah right!! as anyone who knows me well is thinking, haha).

Now, maybe it was a stray dog and maybe my yelling at it did make it angry. Maybe I over-reacted (although if it was a real dog, it wasn't one of ours, and so I did do the right thing by getting away from it). I can't know for certain though, and it both drives me crazy and terrifies me. In my reading of Chris's book, I came across this possible explanation:

GALLEYTROT (English)
This is an animal ghost that resembles a large dog and has been mostly seen in East Anglia where it is said to move around country lanes "like an evil whisper" [our driveway could be considered a 'country lane', right?]. The name is believed to be a corruption of the French gardez le tresor or "guardian of the treasure" and the majority have been seen close to old burial grounds. [Did we have a buried treasure somewhere in the yard? Under the tree? The house? Was the acreage land a possible burial site?] Some Galleytrots are stated to be black in color [yes] with flaming eyes [couldn't see actual eyes, but I definitely felt them staring at me], while one of the most famous that is said to haunt the wilds of Suffolk resembles an enormous hound with the head of a monk.

My other, less traumatizing and bladder-weakening experience occurred later, in the summer. It was a gorgeous day and I was mowing the lawn with the push-mower. Its kind of coincidental that it was in about the same area of yard as the ghost dog. As I took a little breather, letting the mower power down, I stood there, eyes closed, and let the breeze cool me, just enjoying the sun and scent of fresh cut lawn. I remember that the breeze suddenly turned colder, noticeable so. I blinked and looked around (why, I don't know, its not like you can see the wind, lol). My nostrils flared as a new scent overpowered the cut-grass. I kept sniffing, trying to place it, wondering why it smelled so... familiar. It was like men's cologne, and yet my mind discounted that, because where would a smell like that come from? I certainly wasn't wearing any. No one else was around. After a moment, the smell faded and I shook my head and carried on. It wasn't until later that night that we heard from relatives that our Grandpa Brian had passed away. Brian Bell, whose family has owned that land for generations (in fact, in that rural community it is still known as "the Bell house"), and who grew up as a boy there with his parents and many siblings. I realized later that that familiar smell of men's cologne was in fact the exact same cologne he always wore. It comforted me to think that on that tragic day, Grandpa Brian's spirit visited what must have been a special place to him.

It makes a person wonder if maybe the two experiences aren't somehow related. If the Galleytrot was indeed guarding a buried treasure, could Brian's spiritual appearance be connected to that? Think how common it is for a boy to bury something special to him with the intention of digging it up later. Could Grandpa's boyhood 'treasure' actually be something of monetary value? Or maybe just the fact that it was a treasure to him made it of value and importance? What object could be deemed so worthy of protection that it would be appointed a Galleytrot?

The questions are never-ending. Mind-boggling. Scary and yet so... interesting. I guess I'll never know why I was chosen to be in the right-place-at-the-right-time to experience these.

The Adam obsession continues...

If only it was ME he was singing to and making that sexy face for!!

You know your obsession is worsening when you SHOULD be cleaning your house and getting it ready for the birthday party you're hosting tomorrow, but all you can do is think about writing another blog post about a sexy emo-freak and defending him against all the haters in the world! Haha. In fact, I was up late last night hastily writing down all the comments and comebacks streaking though my head, just so I could write this post today. I've got it bad, people.

Actually, it was a comment made by someone on a gossip blog that got me going on this. The person said (to paraphrase) that Adam's version of Ring of Fire was probably the most under-rated performance of American Idol history. And that got me really thinking, especially of Simon's hateful comment that it was "self-indulgent rubbish".

First of all, listen to Adam's performance again, from start to finish it is PERFECT. Literally perfect, vocal-wise. Zero pitch problems, incredible range, its full of emotion and drama, his movements are understated and yet sinuous; not to mention that his version, with the sitar and Middle-Eastern/Egyptian sounds, is insanely original and unique. You can't argue with the fact that the guy can SING, and he looks incredibly hot while doing it! Haha.

So, with the actual performance considered and put aside, I thought about the whole "self-indulgent" aspect. When you actually think about it, its FAR more self-indulgent for a country singer to cover a pop or rock song (such as Sugarland covering Beyonce's Irreplaceable, or Tim McGraw doing Steve Miller's The Joker, or Kenny Chesney's version of John Mellencamp's Hurts So Good). Its much easier for a country artist to put a country spin on a popular song than it is for a rocker to the same for a country song. How simple to take a rock song, add a little banjo, sing with a slow twang, and bang, there you have it -- a crossover hit. If anything, it could be argued that not only is it self-indulgent, it could be considered to be "selling out", pandering to the general public to try to increase your appeal to a wider range of audience.

For a rocker to take a treasured country song, spin it into their own version, and do it successfully, its like a tribute, a true homage to the genre and the original artist themself. Not only that, but its a huge risk! The rock artist risks alienating its own fan base, risks coming off as a flake ("Why would that person want to cover a country song, for pity sakes!?"), and takes a HUGE risk that the song will piss off multiple generations of country-music lovers. Especially if their version is considered avant-garde and "strange". Now granted, I'm absolutely sure that Adam's version of Ring of Fire DID piss off a lot of country fans, especially the older generations that revere Johnny Cash as the true icon he is. But I think (hopefully) that the younger fans will be able to listen with an open mind and see where Adam was coming from with his true homage to The Man in Black.

That being said, another point I want to make about Adam's performance was that, not only was it a tribute to Johnny's genius, but it was almost like a nod of acknowledgment, from one cross-over artist to another, recognizing the fact that Johnny himself famously covered two already exceptional rock songs, Nine Inch Nail's Hurt and Soundgarden's Rusty Cage. (The fact that Randy compared Adam's version to "if NIN had done a country song" seems to confirm this.) And it can be argued (and is, in many circles) that Johnny's versions were as good, if not better, than the originals. Especially in the case of NIN's Hurt. If you've ever heard Johnny's version and seen the video, you are left haunted and stunned for days afterwards.

I watched a MuchMoreMusic Listed special one time, The Top 20 Cover Songs, and Johnny Cash's version of Hurt was at #1, for both the powerful video showing an aged, ravaged Johnny reflecting on his life, with his wife June Carter Cash in the background worrying (this video was shot just months before both their deaths), and for the song itself, stripped down to bare vocals and a minimum of music. The VJs doing the Listed special said that they actually preferred Johnny's simplistic, incredibly moving version over NIN's. In fact, now that I'm remembering that special, they even had Trent Reznor (lead singer for NIN) on there saying he preferred it as well!

I have a bad feeling that Simon is going to continue to under-rate and disparage Adam's performances, simply because he is too closeminded to appreciate the true genius of his talent. But that's not going to stop me from championing my new hero every week (trust me, you'll be reading more about him). Nor will it stop the dream fantasies of my sexy emo-freak keeping me warm in bed at night. Heh!

Can't get this song out of my head!

If you watched American Idol last night, you probably saw Adam Lambert's version of Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash. This guy, Adam... wow, what can I say, how can I even describe him? He's like a darkly demented sexy punk-emo freak. I love him! If I was 16 I'd probably have his name doodled all over my binders and posters up on my walls.

His version of the song is just, wow, so weirdly different and strange and yet... its haunting me and I can't stop singing it! What's your guys' opinions on it? Are you with me (and Paula and Randy) and thinks he's a hero; maybe you're like Simon and think its "self-indulgent rubbish"; or take the middle ground like Kara (the new judge), "confused yet sorta happy".




(I think Fox is pulling all videos of AI performances, so enjoy this clip while you can!)

The L Word series finale

Are there any L Word fans out there reading this? Where are you? Raise your hands... let me hear your rebel yell!

I've been a long-time fan of the series and was depressed to see the commercials saying this was the last season. It comes on Tuesday nights at 11 on Showcase and if I'm on the ball enough to remember, I try to catch every episode. So I was flipping through the channels late last night and came across it (missed the first ten minutes though, doh!).

Man, was it ever a good episode! As it was drawing to a close, I realized that a lot of loose ends were being tied up, and it occurred to me that maybe this was the last episode! Nah, I thought to myself, they wouldn't do that to us loyal viewers! They would advertise something like that, right? And for how often I watch Showcase (for Kenny vs Spenny, Testees, Trailer Park Boys, etc), I for sure would've seen those commercials, right?

So imagine my surprise and despair during the last ten minutes when I realized that YES, this was the very last episode ever! Do you know how I knew that?

**SPOILER ALERT!!**

Because... OMG, they killed Jenny! (If you watch Southpark, you get that reference)

Talk about a twist, freak ending! And it was done in such a way that you don't know if her death was an accident (they found her in the pool) or if one of the friends did it (there were several who had definite motive) or if it was the crazy chick that was found in the bushes by the cops. Oooo, the suspense! All throughout the episode, there would be brief scenes of each friend in an interrogation room (although at the time, you didn't know that's what it was, it just looked like they were sitting at a table talking); then it would go back to the regular storyline. At the very very end, after the body was found and everyone was sitting around shell-shocked, the cops tell them they all need to come down to the station. It flash forwards to a birds-eye view of a parking lot, you see a whole bunch of cars park and everyone gets out, then all the ladies walking in slow-mo towards the station, hair flying in the wind, and everyone is grinning and holding hands.

At first I was like, Ooooo, the ones smiling are the ones who killed her, they know and are covering up for each other, ooooo scandalous! Then I realized that, no, this was their swan-song walk-off, the actresses were smiling at US, the viewers. And sure enough, "Thanks for six amazing seasons!" comes on the screen and it fades to black.

NOOOOOoooo!! Tuesday nights just won't be the same anymore...

Random Hilarity

I've got a bad case of the Mondays, so I thought to cheer myself up, I'd jot down a few moments of hilarity that have occurred lately...


Sorry Levi, but you had to have known this would be getting put down on the blog. Last Friday night was the Medieval Night at the community center. Gunnar's grade 5 class put together a special presentation for the families, it was very cute and interesting and fun. At one point, we were all sitting at our table: me, my kids, my mom, my brother Levi and his gf Amber, and my other brother Trapper. The "serving wenches" had served everyone small bowls of stew and we were digging in. Levi and Amber were hosting our regular Family Dinner at their house afterwards and it just so happened they were also serving stew. Levi was talking about how he had to call Mom for advice on making it. "But Mom, I don't understand why you said to wash the stew meat. All that did was make a gooey, flour-y mess!" We all stared at him, perplexed. "Levi, do you mean that you coated the meat with flour and THEN washed it off?" Well, of course, that's what Mom said to do! "Levi, I meant wash the meat before you coat it with flour!" You did? Ohhh.... Of course, we all burst into laughter and poor Levi was beet red, guffawing with embarrassment, burying his face in his hands. So then of course, we all had to bug him about it for the rest of the night. "Mmmm, meat soup! Who needs gravy in a stew? Bwahahaha!!" Its a good thing he also figured out that "one clove" of garlic does not mean the whole bulb, else we would've been eating meat-and-garlic-soup! Ahh, we love ya Levi!


We've been on a knock-knock joke kick at our house lately, and it all started with a book of knock-knock jokes Mom gave the kids. One night I encouraged the kids to come up with their own jokes. Ardan was so excited that his mouth kinda got ahead of his brain: "Knock knock!" Who's there? "Two!" Two who? (we were wondering where this was going) "Uh... (his eyes darted around as he tried to come up with a punchline)... Poo!" Gunnar and I got the major giggles from this, so now its a running joke around here. "Two poo!" Then, the next night, on The Office they just happened to be cracking knock-knock jokes (I know, weird, eh?). Dwight says to Michael, "Knock knock." Who's there? "The KGB" (said with a german accent) KGB who? "No one questions the KGB!" (or something like that) and he SLAPS Michael upside the head! Hilarious! So now the boys are constantly doing that to each other, they know the slap's coming but they answer "KGB who?" every time.


The 'renovations' in Lena's room are finally complete and it now looks like a fairy-tale princess room! The scribbles on the wall were painted over, all the toys organized in pink and green boxes, her closet organized and rearranged, and Mom finished painting her desk and bookshelf in "popsicle pink" with silver sparkly handles. Beautiful! Everywhere you look is pink, its truly a 'girls' room. Well, one night, after Mom had just finished painting in there and the fumes were thick, we were getting Lena ready to go for a sleepover at Gramma's (because she couldn't sleep in there due to the fumes) and Lena was being cranky and ornery, in that contrary mood she gets in when she's overtired. She was just being a brat, basically, and she blurts out: "I HATE pink!" Mom and I looked at each other and just shook our heads.

Mom was over here a few days ago, working on the house, and as she was getting ready to leave, she grabbed her can of pepsi to take with her. I was in the front entry with her, we were chatting as she hauled her stuff outside, and she picked up her pop and took a big swig. Immediately, she gagged and spit it out all over the snow. Here, she'd grabbed a can we'd been using as an ashtray! Poor Mom! I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants, while she's gagging and trying not to hurl.

Sunday we were in Ponoka for Ardan's hockey game. The game had just started and I was standing near some bleachers with the other moms, chatting. Suddenly one mom pointed at something, making a garbled little squealing noise, and I turned to see what was going on. There was my boy, little Ryderman, laying on the floor, LICKING a huge puddle of water! It was a massive puddle, probably made from someone's muddy snowy boots, and he was lapping it up like it'd been a week since he'd last had a drink! I let out a huge groan and ran over there to scoop him up, all the mom's were laughing and making 'ewwww' faces. What could I say? "At least it wasn't the toilet!" Thinking, you know, that he'd been lapping the water like a pet would, don't pets also drink out of the toilet? Except then the moms all looked at me, horrified, like I actually let my kids do that (come on people!) so then I got all red-faced and had to explain that was a joke! I also jokingly reassured them that no, my son's not dehydrated or desperate for a drink, he's just being a boy. So now I'm sure they all think I'm weird, haha.

'Humanity' is relative

Compassion, bravery, heroism -- these are not words that only apply to our fellow man...

My new fave TV show: Testees

You're all aware by now of my love for Kenny vs Spenny, well now there's a new show that has edged it out of its top spot. And get this, it's the brainchild of Kenny, he's the producer, creator and director! Its on Showcase every Monday at 10:30pm, Tuesday & Friday at 9pm ET/PT (whatever that is in Mountain Time).



From the Showcase website: "Testees is a half-hour comedy about two best friends and roommates who work as test subjects for TESTICO, an experimental drug & product testing facility. Peter and Ron are thirty-something adolescents refusing to grow up and like most guys, seek fame, fortune, and females. In each episode the guys are given an experimental product, medication or treatment to test. They then have to deal with whatever ridiculous side-effects occur while trying to go about their lives." See the commercial below...



The episode last week was probably the funniest one yet, and that's really saying something. Ron and Steve were to test muscle relaxants and right before they were about to gulp them down, while Steve (the Spenny of this show) was distracted by something, Ron (the Kenny) slipped his pills into his cup. Steve was like instantly paralyzed from the neck down, he could only blink and move his eyes around. Ron then had to act as his caretaker until the pills wore off.

Poor Steve was basically tortured for two days, I can't even list all the ways, but here are some: Ron got confused if one blink meant yes and two meant no, so every time Steve meant no (blinking frantically) Ron was like, "Yes?"; Ron came up with the idea to go through the alphabet so Steve could blink to spell out what he wanted to eat, but because Ron was saying it like, "A.......B.......C....." poor Steve couldn't hold his eyes open long enough to spell out "soup" and ended up eating a jellybean omelet (which he couldn't chew, of course, not being able to move his jaw), so Ron chewed up the food and spit it into his mouth, gak!; Ron thought that Steve blinked 'yes' when he asked if he was cold so he bundled him up in layers of clothes and blankets, Steve is sweating profusely and frantically blinking 'no' when Ron asks him "Still cold?" which of course Ron takes to mean 'yes' and so he parks his wheelchair in front of the open oven which is set at 500; Ron brushes Steve's teeth with the toothbrush they use to clean the toilet; it goes on and on.

At the very end, a nurse comes to relieve Ron of his caretaking duties. Ron is sleeping on the couch when she comes over and she mistakes him for Steve. Seeing that she is smoking hot, Ron plays along, especially when she asks if he wants a spongebath. Then, before Ron even knows what is happening, she pulls out a huge syringe, pokes him in the arm with it, and tells him its a muscle stimulant to counteract the relaxant, extra strength of course seeing as how they never realized how strong the pills were. Instantly, Ron is running around, going crazy, arms and legs flailing, body wildly shaking and jerking, and he ends up running out an open window in their apartment (which is two floors up), landing naked on the cement.

The next scene shows Ron in a full-body cast, jaw and mouth wired open, and Steve coming out of the kitchen holding a frying pan. He says something like, "Isn't it funny that I was paralyzed for two days and you're going to be in that body cast for six weeks? Don't worry though, I'll take of you exactly the same way you took care of me. Are you hungry? I've made your favorite - jellybean omelet." Ron's eyes bug out and the scene fades to black.

The Long Dong Challenge: Results

Okay, so you guys remember the post I did last week about The Bear radio station's contest between the two DJs, 'Who Has The Biggest Dong'. Well, the results are in and you guys gotta see this, its too funny!

Minute 6 is where it gets damn hilarious...

I am a PSYCHO

**Cue the scary Hitchcock music - reee reee reee reee!!**

First of all, let me explain that 99% of the time, I am a nice, relatively sane person; I accept my role as homemaker, wife, mother, chef, maid, chauffeur, nurse, therapist, cheerleader with hardly any whining or complaining -- this is what I signed on for and I am fully aware that I have at least another 16 years of this. And most days, I am happy and content to take care of my family and see to their needs.

But sometimes, on those rare 1% days, it all gets to be a little too much, you know? I'm sure there's other women, other moms out there who know exactly what I mean. Days when you wake up and you just feel off; you walk into the kitchen and see the dirty dishes piled up, the overflowing garbage bin, feel the crumbs crunching under your feet; you walk into the bathroom and step on used wet towels, see the tub filled with bath toys that didn't get put away, you look at the sink and mirror all dirty and spotted with godknowswhat, the empty toilet paper roll that no one has replaced; you walk into the laundry room and see all the hampers of dirty clothes, the disgusting kitty litter box; you peek into the kids bedrooms and it looks like a hurricane of toys and dirty clothes has gone through; the livingroom needs to be vacuumed and dusted, there's DVDs and CDs on the floor everywhere, not to mention toys and dirty clothes on the floor.

And it all comes crashing down on you, the fact that this is your life, to be constantly picking up after others and cleaning their messes, that you are the one everyone assumes will take care of it, that no matter how many times you ask and beg and then have to downright yell at them to do this or that, they just don't GET IT. No one seems to understand the crushing responsibility you feel, the weight that constantly sits on your shoulders. It seems like you are the forgotten one, they are living their lives and having fun and you are the one stuck at home with the baby while they get to go out and do things, like ice-fishing and quadding.

In moments like that, I feel incredibly betrayed and taken for granted. Yes, this is my life and yes, I knew what I was taking on having four kids before I was 30, but some days I think, "I didn't know it would be like this!" And yet, how many other mothers throughout the generations have been in this exact same situation, they coped and handled it, they endured. I just wonder if they ever had their moments of 1% too.

So all this that I've explained to you is background information, so you will know where I was coming from when I had my 1% moment yesterday.

When I woke up at 8am, I was feeling great. Tyler had taken the boys out ice-fishing early early and because I had warned him the night before to try not to wake the baby, Ryder had slept in past his usual 7am wakeup time, and I'd gotten an extra hour of sleep. It was wonderful!

Until I walked into the war-zone that was my kitchen and livingroom. The carnage was a nightmare, everywhere I looked was a mess waiting for me to clean it up. To wake up in such a good mood and then have to see all that, well, all I can compare it to would be to receive a beautifully wrapped present, only to open it up and see that someone punk'd you and gave you a big steaming pile of dog crap. As I wandered from room to room, upstairs and down, each mess and disaster zone I saw just added to the chaos going on inside of me. (Not to mention, I had chosen the day before as my "quit smoking cold-turkey" day and I had no ciggies to calm me down and chill me out.)

Around 10:30, I put Ryder down for his nap and decided to take a nice long hot bath to try to calm myself down. I assumed Lena was watching the movie I'd put on for her. She asked me at one point, yelling through the bathroom door, if she could do crafts, to which I emphatically yelled, "NO! Wait till I'm out of the bath!" Thought nothing of it, she usually asks me stuff like that when I'm in the bath and my response is always the same. When my bath was over, and I was feeling slightly more human and less psycho, I got dressed and went out to the kitchen.

You guys, it was a nightmare! She had NOT listened to me. Craft supplies were everywhere, beads and puffballs and tiny pieces of construction paper that she'd cut, not to mention blobs of paint all over the table, chairs and floor. The entire table and floor was covered. I turned to her in absolute horror, only to see that she must've also decided to give herself another haircut and a huge chunk of hair was chin-length! I kinda lost it, marched that brat to her room as I yelled at her, then I went back to try to deal with the mess. Halfway through, I lost all desire to even attempt to wipe up all the paint and I just stood there, breath heaving, thoughts racing, just thinking, "I can't do this any more! I need to get away!" And OF COURSE, that's when Hubs and the boys came home from ice-fishing.

By that time, I was a time-bomb waiting to go off. I held it in quite admirable, I thought. I didn't want to just blast into them for no particular reason. I was giving them the benefit of the doubt, hoping that at any moment they would say something like, "Wow, look at the front entry! Don't worry Mom, we'll take care of it" or even, "Here Mom, we'll take care of these dirty dishes and clothes that we left all over the livingroom". But no. The kids immediately started playing video games, Tyler went to lay down in our room. No one even noticed that I was standing there, fighting for sanity, they didn't even take notice of the huge mess on the table. I bent down to pick up a pair of scissors on the floor, Pablo happened to be sitting on them, and as I pulled them out from under him, he reached out and dug his claw into my thumb.

That was it. That was my breaking point. I shakily put the scissors back in the junk drawer, then I walked to my bathroom, grabbing a towel along the way from the linen closet, and I locked the door. Turned on the fan, sat down on the toilet, shoved the towel to my face, and I lost it.

I could hear Tyler yelling at me from the bedroom, "What's wrong? Are you okay? What happened?" I couldn't even respond, not that I wanted to. I wanted him to sit there, stewing, frantic with worry for me. I was in there for at least half an hour, crying so hard it felt like my head would explode. When I finally got myself under some semblance of control, I left the bedroom, ignored Tyler's "What the hell happened?!", went back into the kitchen and tried to tackle the mess again. But then I thought, "Screw this!" and I let them all have it.

I can't even remember what all I said, but I know that all the feelings and thoughts I'd had running through my mind as I sat in the bathroom and bawled, came out. When my storm of emotion finally ran its course and I collapsed in a chair, there was absolute silence. The kids silently tiptoed past me and started picking up their messes, occasionally looking at me with worry and fear in their eyes. As most people do when they feel they're being attacked, Tyler chose to get defensive and so I sat there and listened to him, "You SAID it was okay last night that I could go ice-fishing!" (That was a major cause of my psychotic episode, the fact that he went out ice-fishing every day, sometimes twice a day, for the last five days, instead of staying home and helping me out around the house.)

And so, I lost it again. "You know what? You think its so easy to take care of the kids and the house? You have no idea why I'm so upset? Well, fine! I'm going to bed, that's it, I'm done. YOU can deal with everything! Have fun with that!" And I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and started crying again. Eventually I fell asleep, although I could hear every so often Tyler yelling at the kids or his screams of frustration. I think I slept for almost three hours, waking up only when Tyler came in to tersely tell me he had to leave to take Ardan to hockey practice.

When I came out to the kitchen, the kids were only too happy to tell me all that had went on while I slept unaware. Ardan had accidentally broke a picture frame, there had been glass everywhere, and Dad had to clean it all up and get out the vacuum. Ryder had had a huge poopy diaper and Dad had to change him. Lena spilled her juice on the floor and Dad had to wipe it all up. Dad had to make them lunch, then clean up afterwards. Ryder spilled his juice all over himself and Dad had to change his clothes. There was no cutlery for them to use at lunchtime, so Dad had to empty and reload the dishwasher.

This, of course, was HEAVEN to my ears. Yessss!! Finally, he had to experience a fraction of what a day in my life is like. And it was pretty obvious that he hadn't been able to handle it. Okay, yes, to give him his due, he DID handle it, but not in a calm, sane manner. The kids said he yelled at them the entire time and his face was red and they thought he was going to have a heart attack.

When he came back from hockey practice, I was there waiting. Didn't say a word, just looked at him. And he said in a quiet voice, "I get it now." It didn't totally appease the psycho beast, but it was okay. And so I was back in 99% mode.

Its not the first time that 1% has come out, and it certainly won't be the last, but at least I'm being shown more consideration and thoughtfulness. AND my hubby went out and bought me a pack of smokes last night without me even asking. Haha. His attempt at pacifying the beast, I guess. And it worked!

I guess "pervs" like me can still blush...

Lucky, lucky me. Yesterday, I went for that lovely, special visit to the doctor that us ladies must do on a yearly basis (well, bi-yearly for me). You can feel my joy, can't you. I was just expecting the pap but I guess the nurse booked me down for a full physical. Niiiice. So I had to get my height and weight done (the nurse kindly converted the kgs to lbs for me, geezsh), the blood pressure cuff wasn't working or something and he did it three times, my arm felt like it was going to explode and fall off. And, I had to get a breast exam.

Now, I don't know about the rest of you ladies out there, but I despise breast exams. Yes, yes, I realize they are necessary for good breast health, blah blah. But its so embarrassing. To me, even more so than the pap. Don't ask me why I feel that way. I totally wasn't expecting it, either. You'd think after the weighing I would've clued in that I was getting the 'full' treatment there, but I didn't. Until he gestured towards the dressing gown and said I should lie back. Ack. I awkwardly fumbled the gown down and laid back, arms overhead, and I could feel how fiery red my face was. Again, I have no clue why this makes me so uncomfortable. I mean, this doctor has seen me through three pregnancies and deliveries, he's seen me buck naked and straining to eject squirming babies from my sweaty body. But laying there on the table, naked from the waist up, spread out like a virgin sacrifice (heh), all I could think was, "Oh god, please don't let my nipples get hard!" Haha, how stupid is that? But I don't want the doctor to think I'm a perv that gets off on having strange men fondle me. Thankfully, my niblets obeyed.

I haven't had a breast exam in years, so I guess its a good thing, and I can say that I definitely learned a lesson from that one time. Back then, I was completely taken off guard and as I laid back on the table that time, it hit me that I was so completely unprepared for it that I hadn't even shaved my armpits!! Oh god, the horror, shame and embarrassment! It traumatized me so badly that ever since I've always made sure to shave the day before my appointment, just in case. And in this case, it was a good thing.

So anyway, we'll fast forward through the other part of the exam (if only we really could fast forward through it in real life, eh?). My doc really is a nice guy and after I mentioned that I was stressing out over having to go off my awesome, skin-clearing birth control, he kindly prescribed me an entire year of the stuff (after going through my family history, to make sure I wouldn't have complications from it). So I left the office in a good mood.

My grandma Deanna was watching the two babies at her house so I decided I'd head on over to Chapters and use the gift card Levi got me for my birthday. There's three books I've been desperate to buy for a few months now and I was so excited to snap them up. I found the first one easily enough, in the romance section, but I just couldn't find the other two. I must've searched every row, even though they're all organized alphabetically by the author's last name. Finally, I went to the computer and searched for them; it showed that there were lots of copies of both books so I went back to the romance section, thinking I somehow overlooked them. Still no luck. Went back to the computer and stood there in confusion. Finally, I saw a Chapters employee heading towards me.

She was an older woman, I'd say late-70s maybe, still spry and energetic looking, but definitely older. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but later I wondered if I shouldn't have asked a younger person my own age. Anyway... she entered the book titles in the computer, showed me how to print them off, then showed me on the screen where it tells you the book section to look for.

When I asked her why I wasn't finding them in the romance section, she loudly said, "Because these books are classified as EROTICA." There was no hint of censure or disgust in her voice or expression, but I could feel it coming off her in waves. People browsing bookstands nearby turned towards me upon hearing that word, eyebrows raised, probably thinking, "Huh, never wouldn't guessed a woman like her would be into that." For the second time that day, I turned beet red. Stuttered a bit, tried to laugh it off, show that witch I was a confident, unashamed, forward-thinking woman of the world (which I usually am).

She led me over to the section, which is buried behind the boring stuff, like science books and manuals. Chapters probably did that intentionally to preserve their clients 'dignity' -- so it looks like us pervs are actually rocket scientists, browsing science and tech mags. Haha.

Now, you'd think having led me, the jaded pervert, to the section that she'd be on her merry way, but no. She had to browse through all the books, looking for my two, raising her eyebrows at some of the titles (god, if I thought I was blushing before it was nothing compared to seeing the titles and cover pages of some of those books, I really did feel like a disgusting sex pervert). Then, like she was doing me a favor, she handed me my two books and told me to feel free to continue browsing. I graciously thanked her for all her help, then lit out of there to the checkout. What a witch.

And hey, turned out that I knew the cashier. I thought she looked familiar, and when I asked her if she used to work at the Sylvan library, she looked at me blankly for a second, until I said, "Remember? I used to come in and we'd drool over the hot guys on the covers of the books I was checking out?" Then she knew instantly who I was. "Oh yeah! Hey, remember that one book where the guy was buck naked with just the woman's hair over his area?" We laughed hilariously at that, just like we did back then. I guess she's an author (of erotic fiction no less, see - I'm not the only perv out there, lol) and she has a book coming out next week, it'll be in Chapters. Might have to check that out. I asked her if she got to choose the guy on the cover of her book or even meet him and she sighed and said, "I WISH! No, the publisher does that." We both looked sadly at each other, then burst out laughing again.

So that was my day yesterday. I probably don't have to tell you what I did for the rest of the day after I got home. Lets just say that my housework and chores were sadly neglected, and supper was a couple hours late. And when anyone tried to distract me from reading, they learned not to get between a perv and her drug of choice. LOL!

Attention GUYS: Did you know this?

I know that my brothers, both of them I think but maybe it was just the one, have taken Viagra as a joke and even slipped it in their friends' drinks as a really stupid joke, but get this...

I was listening to The Bear radio station today and two of the guy DJs are having a contest where they have to do a whole bunch of challenges that listeners make up and whoever wins the most challenges gets money for a charity. Anyway, their first challenge is Who Has The Biggest Dong (their words, not mine). The one DJ got a doctor on the air to give them some tips and advice, and he asked the doc if taking Viagra would help.

The doctor explained that all Viagra does is increase blood flow to the penis, BUT he said that its possible to overdose on the blue pill and you get what is called priapism, basically a prolonged, painful erection. The doctor said that if that occurs, the guy has to go to the emergency room and have the blood physically drained from the penis (at this point, the male DJs were like, "Oooo, man!"). BUT, and here's the worst part, once the blood is drained this way, you can never achieve an erection again!!! (There was complete silence on the DJs part once this was said, you could almost hear their jaws hitting the floor, then they both were like, "WHAT?!?")

Holy crap! Bet my brothers will think long and hard (pun intended, lol) about taking that little blue pill next time. Heh heh!

This could only happen to me

I'm sure everyone has experienced this: you did something embarrassing in public and just wanted to crawl under a rock. The first thing you always do is immediately look around to see if anyone noticed, breathing a sigh of relief if not or blushing and shrugging if it was noticed.

Well, yesterday I did something so incredibly stupid and humiliating in the parking lot of No Frills, I just wanted to go hide somewhere. And of course, with my luck, it was definitely noticed. I had just finished loading all the groceries into the back of the Durango. I reached up and grabbed the back hatch, and swung it downwards with all my might. And wouldn't you know it, I had misjudged the distance I was standing from the vehicle and !!!SMASH!!! The sharp bottom corner landed directly on top of my head.

Holy CRAP did it hurt! I yelped loudly and grabbed my poor head. Then, of course, I whipped around to see if there were witnesses and sure enough, there were like four people walking to their vehicles who had stopped upon seeing this and they were all wincing and looking sorry for me. One guy said, "Yeouch! That's gotta hurt!" Brilliant observation, buddy. I smiled weakly and replied, "Yeah, you'd think I was blonde or something." Only to realize two of the four people watching were blondes, of course! Returning my cart to the rack was like doing a walk of shame. I could just imagine how stupid those people thought I was. Doh!

Today, the ginormous goose-egg on top of my head gave my head this lovely misshapen bulge, I looked like an inbred hillbilly. Had to wear a hat to Lena's gymnastics to cover my oddity. At least I was able to find one of those boxy military-looking hats that aren't formfitting to your head, like a ball cap is.

So, in the spirit of self-humiliation, I've compiled a list for y'all of the many many embarrassing things I've done over the years. Should give you quite a laugh. Me, not so much.

(These are not in any order of most-to-least embarrassing, I'm just writing them down as they come to my swollen, misshapen head.)

1. When I was about 13-14, I went bowling with Christine in Red Deer. This was during my long-skirt-brightly-colored-tights-combat-boots-wearing days. Yes, I thought this was quite a look. Anyways, the skirt I had on was floor length and about three sizes too big, but I loved it and usually just used a big safety pin to tighten the waist. On that particular day, my big pin was missing so I thought Oh well, what's the likelihood my skirt will fall down? Ahhh, the naivety of youth. So we're at the bowling alley, just the two of us, and the next lane over is a bunch of teenagers a few years older than us, with about half of them being hot guys. Of course, me and Christine were goofing off, trying to attract their attention. I grabbed my ball and stepped up to take my swing. I could feel a breeze on my legs but I was into my swing, watching the ball, and so thought nothing of it. Then I heard Christine gasp loudly and as I swung around to look at her, my legs got tangled in something. Yeah, you know where this is going. My friggin' skirt was down around my ankles, leaving me clad in nothing but a little t-shirt, bright red tights and those incredibly ugly bowling shoes! I had my skirt yanked back up in a flash, but I knew, I KNEW, that those guys had seen everything. My face was as red as my tights. Dared a glance over at the guys, who were all grinning hugely at me and laughing. Looked at Chris, she looked at me, and we both nodded. Right. Bowling was officially over. We hightailed it out of there and didn't look back. To commemorate this humiliating occasion, my dad bought me a figurine of a mouse holding a bowling ball. Thanks, Dad!
2. In grade five one time, a bunch of us kids were goofing off in class as the teacher had left the room. For some reason, I thought it would be funny to jump on top of a desk. Don't ask me why. Of course, the desk toppled over, I fell backwards and landed sprawled on top of it. The kids were laughing hilariously (well, at least I got the laughs I was looking for) and one kid, what an ass, pipes up, "Must be because she's chubby!" Ooooo, now that's just mean! I had never considered myself to be a chubby kid until that point. Talk about adding insult to injury, literally.
3. It was first day of grade four, the morning, and everyone had just finished putting away the school supplies in our desks. The teacher asked us to get out a pencil and notebook. I slid down in my seat to reach into my desk, and as I did a little fart squeaked out. I snapped upright and looked at the kid next to me. I could tell he was about to say something, he just had that look on his face. To head him off at the pass, and serve him right for being about to rat on me, I said loudly, "Ewwww, Allan!" He turned bright red and sputtered, "It wasn't me!" and everyone just laughed. (Yeah, so maybe you don't consider this to be an embarrassing moment for me, you probably feel bad for Allan, but it stands out in my memory as one of my more humiliating moments.)
4. One time in junior high, I got in trouble from the teacher, who also happened to be the junior high principal. He left the room and I decided to get a little revenge by standing in front of the class, back to the door, and imitate him. "Blabbedy-blah Beau, you get detention, I'm the principal, blabbedy-blah" in a deep voice like his. Everyone was laughing hysterically, then suddenly there was silence. I, of course, was so into my impression that I didn't notice and kept on with the impression. Finally, it penetrated my peabrain and I turned around and of course there he was, standing behind me. Needless to say, I got about another weeks' worth of detention for that one, as well as being the laughingstock of the class and having them doing impressions of ME for the next month.
5. It was wintertime and I was in grade 10. You know, the grade when you feel superior to all the junior high kids but you are still trying to impress the older ones and want them to think you're cool. So I was outside the school, walking on the sidewalk, and I was wearing a skirt, nylons and shoes with a bit of a heel. There was a huge group of senior high kids standing in the "pit" (where they went to smoke during breaks) and I was walking by them, trying to look cool. Just as I was about past the group, my ankle twisted inwards and I stumbled, then my shoes slipped on the ice. I went down, hard, in a flurry of arms and legs, and ended up sprawled spread-eagled on the sidewalk, skirt up around my hips. I could hear hoots and catcalls and crazy laughter. I scrambled to stand up and fled inside the school. Had to ditch my shredded nylons in the garbage and walk around all day with bare, scraped-up legs. By the end of the day, everyone had heard what'd happened and they all called me "Blue" because of the blue panties I flashed when I was on the ground.
6. If you have a weak stomach, avoid this one! It must have been in grade 9 or 10. I was at my friend Jodie's house, there was a big party going on, and her two older brothers were there as well as all their wayyyy hot friends. Jodie convinced me to drink a couple of beers, my first time drinking beer ever. I absolutely hated the taste but didn't want to look 'uncool' so I downed them quickly. BIIIIIIGGGG mistake. I was sitting on the couch between Jodie and her older brother, when suddenly my stomach started rebelling against all the yeasty beer. I kept swallowing frantically, trying to stop what I knew what going on, when all of a sudden it happened. I cupped my hands to my mouth to hold the puke in, but all that did was force the puke into a high arc in the air, like a fountain. SPLASH! All over the coffee table in front of us, all over myself, the couch. Puke was dripping off the table onto the floor. I burst into tears and Jodie hustled me out of there as fast as she could, upstairs to the shower, but all I could hear was all the guys in the livingroom yelling, "Did you SEE that?! That was the coolest thing ever! It was a fuckin' fountain! AWESOME!" It would have been MUCH worse if they were all like 'gross!' but still.... And that is how I earned the nickname "Spew" that stuck with me right up till graduation.
7. Here's another one for all you squeamish types to avoid. This happened when I was in my just-graduated-out-of-the-house-wild-child days (before I was together with Tyler). Took home a guy from the bar with the intent on having a crazy-fun time, and I got my period, well, during the fun time. Yes, d-u-r-i-n-g. I won't get into any horrific details here, but suffice it to say we were both extremely traumatized (him probably more than me, haha) and I never saw the guy again.
8. One time during me and Tyler's early days as a couple, I was sitting on his lap, we were watching tv, and at a commercial break he started tickling me. I was laughing hysterically, trying to escape, and I accidentally farted on his lap. He was horrified, as was I, but I couldn't stop laughing at the look on his face, and everytime I laughed, another one came out. Then it was him trying to escape me, and all I could do was lay on the couch, laughing my head off even as I blushed fiery-red with embarrassment. Nothing like doing that "first" (you know, the first time you fart in front of your significant other) while sitting on your guy's lap. He later told me that was the first time he ever heard a girl fart, up until then he wasn't even sure we did that. Oh, Tyler, so street-wise and yet so naive, haha...
9. I was in grade 12, the senior high school had just been renovated, and I was sitting in the new common area doing homework, listening to music on my walkman. Out of the corner of my eye I could see some girls at another table laughing and sneaking glances at me. When I turned my head to stare at them, they stopped and looked down at their books. Went back to doing my thing, and noticed this time some guys at a different table doing the same thing. It was at that point that I realized I had been singing along to the music, loudly. I'm pretty sure the entire school had heard my warbling, off-key singing as it echoed throughout the huge common area and down the halls. Its a good thing I was popular and generally well-liked by all, so when people made fun of me afterwards it was more of a "That Beau, what a nut" instead of "That Beau, what a loser". Haha.
10. As some of you may already know, I was hugely addicted to Harlequin romance novels when I was a young teen. Well, one time I was in the middle of reading one and my dad happened by and snatched the book out of my hand. I immediately went nuts, trying to get it back before he glanced at the page. Dad being Dad, he picked up on the frantic vibe and opened the book and started reading aloud. And of course, he had to zero in on the few graphic paragraphs of the love scene. You know what's worse than watching a movie with your parents and a love scene comes on and everyone sort of sits uncomfortably through it and avoids looking at each other? Having your DAD read a graphic love scene out loud and hearing him say words like "thrust" and "manhood" and "breasts". After that, I learned to read those books in the privacy of my room.