Back from the Great White North

So I'm back from visiting La Famille. It was great to see everyone. I don't get up there nearly as often as I'd like.

Mom, Cecile, Alex and I spent hours playing School. Not the kind where one of us stands at the front and pretends to write on a chalk board. I'm talking about the card game. Highly addictive. Takes some dexterity as the final hand has you holding 20 cards. Not easy, I tell ya. I think I stayed behind in Grade 2 four times in a row! This is the end of a hand. Looking at the lists with the orange Post-it Notes, it looks like we're at Grade 9 here. I'm pretty sure Alex won this hand.



Mom made her usual feast-dinner. Homemade egg rolls, fried rice, lemon chicken, cashew chicken, steamed veggies. Mmmmmm!



And for dessert? Skor cake. Scores!!



We went to visit Memere while we were there. She was in great spirits, joking around with us and laughing. It was just Mom, Alex and I who went to visit. Cecile wasn't feeling well and stayed home to rest so she could come over later to play cards. Clearly, she has her priorities straight!

But in the middle of our visit, Cecile's husband, Ken, shows up. He walks into Memere's room and asks where Cecile is. We laughed, because we thought he was joking and Cecile was actually hiding behind him. In fact, Mom went out into the hallway to check, just to be sure. But no Cecile. Ken explains that when he left this morning to go golfing, he left Cecile in bed and had closed the locked door behind him. But left his keys inside. Nice going, Ken! When there was no answer, he assumed she was at Mom's and went over to get a key. Budge told him that everyone had gone over to visit Memere and he assumed she was with us. Mom gave him her key to their house (it's Sudbury ... everyone has keys to everyone's house) and sent him on his way.

Memere's hearing is bad and she couldn't hear the conversation, so she was confused as to why Ken was there, then suddenly left. So Mom says to Memere: "Ken came to get a key because he was locked out of the house." This doesn't really explain it to Memere, so I added "But it's ok, because Cecile threw all of Ken's things out onto the front lawn so he'll be alright." This seems to clear it up, because Memere laughed and said "Good for Cecile!"

Good to know that at 99, Memere still has our backs!

Happy Secretary's Day

Today is National Administrative Assistant's Day.
Or something like that.

Honestly, people.
Why is the title 'Secretary' so offensive?
Besides ...
Administrative Assistant is just too damn hard to say.
It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.
Secretary is easy to say.
Everyone knows what it means.
And if you are one, then you know that you work like a dog.
No sense in glorifying it.

Robi's boss came to see us and says "So, this is Assistant's Week, or Day or whatever." I pointed out that, yes, today is, in fact, Secretary's Day, but for some reason it has been extended to a week. I also pointed that, in reality, it's a year-long celebration.

He nodded sagely.
He's a married man.
He knows to nod at such comments.

"So ... what are the other lawyers doing?" Obviously he was fishing for ideas. Should they do and/or buy something? I was quick to offer "Well, I heard that some lawyers are gifting their secretaries with BMWs. I don't need a BMW myself; me -- I'm quite happy with a Mustang."

My suggestion was laughed off.
Damn!

But when we came back from a break, I found this on my chair:




Hmmm ...
Well, it's no Mustang.
But it does have potential.

Let's see what's inside, shall we?



Oooooo!!
Yummmmmm!!



Of course, the bosses are on this like a bunch of fat kids on a Smartie. Pointing out which ones they chose, all pleased with themselves, grinning like a bunch of lunatics.

I guess it's a good thing I work for guys who love and appreciate chocolate as much as I do.
Then again, I do have to slap them away from the truffles.
There's always a catch, isn't there?

Apologies 'n such

I've been busy and haven't been a good blogger.
I apologize for that.
Although I haven't been able to comment, I have read most of your posts.
I haven't forgotten about you.
I swear.

I'm off to Sudbury with sister Alex to visit La Famille.
So this is me signing off 'till Sunday.

Looking forward to seeing Mom, Dad, Cecile and Budge (my little brother)
Video games (Mom says she and Cecile have been practicing)
Cards (I usually learn a new swear word)
Great homemade food (Mom's making homemade Chinese food Saturday!)
And just recharging myself

If you want something to keep you busy while I'm gone,
visit me over at Survey Says.
I have survey questions queued for posting Thursday and Friday.
Plus, it'll be fun.
I swear.

See ya'll when I get back!

How to Poop at Work

*Unfortunately, I can't take credit for what I think is a brilliant piece of work. This is one of those emails that gets sent around and around and makes everyone snort with laughter*


We've all been there but don't like to admit it. We've all kicked back in our cubicles and suddenly felt something brewing down below. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the Work Poop is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work.


CROP DUSTING
When farting, you walk really fast around the office so the smell is not in your area and everyone else gets a whiff, but doesn't know where it came from. Be careful when you do this. Do not stop until the full fart has been expelled. Walk an extra 30 feet to make sure the smell has left your pants.

FLY BY
The act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in and check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.

ESCAPEE
A fart that slips out while taking a pee or forcing a poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of embarrassment. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are a man and are standing next to the farter in the urinal, pretend you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee. It is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.

JAILBREAK
When forcing a poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should happen, do not panic. Remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.

COURTESY FLUSH
The act of flushing the toilet the instant the poop hits the water. This reduces the amount of air time the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.

WALK OF SHAME
Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk up the bath room. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. Can be avoided with the use of the COURTESY FLUSH.

OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER
A colleague who poops at work and is Doggone proud of it. You will often see an OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER enter the bathroom with a newspaper or magazine under their arm. Always look around the office for the OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER before entering the bathroom.

SAFE HAVENS
A seldom used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom.

TURD BURGLAR
Someone who does not realize that you are in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and vulnerable moments that can occur when taking a poop at work. If this occurs, remain in the stall until the TURD BURGLAR leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact.

CAMO-COUGH
A phony cough that alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON, or to alert a potential TURD BURGLAR. Very effective when used in conjunction with a SHIRLEY TEMPLE

SHIRLEY TEMPLE
A subtle toe-tapping that is used to alert potential TURD BURGLARS that you are occupying a stall. This will remove all doubt that the stall is occupied. If you hear a SHIRLEY TEMPLE, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.

WATERMELON
A poop that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a Watermelon coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.


SOME VARIETIES OF POOP YOU SHOULD BE AWARE OF:

THE KING POOP
This kind is the kind of poop that killed Elvis. It doesn't come until you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.

BALI BELLY POOP
You poop so much you lose 5 lbs.

CEMENT BLOCK
You wish you'd gotten a spinal block before you poop.

CORK POOP
Even after the third flush, it's still floating in there. How do I get rid of it? This poop usually happens at someone else's house.

THE BUNGEE POOP
The kind of poop that just hangs off your rear before it falls into the water.

THE CRIPPLER
The kind of poop where you have to sit on the toilet so long your legs go numb from the waist down.

THE CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG
The kind of poop that hits you when you're trapped in your car in a traffic jam.

THE PARTY POOPER
The giant poop you take at a party. And when you flush the toilet, you watch in horror as the water starts to rise...

NOW EVERYONE TRY TO GO POOP IN PEACE
QUIT LAUGHING... POOPING IS A NATURAL PROCESS

Definitely Not a Kid Anymore

M'Licious sent me an email yesterday.
L'dMAO when I read it.


Twenty-Five Ways to Tell You're Grown Up

1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.
2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.
3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
4. 6:00 a.m. is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
5. You hear your favourite song in an elevator.
6. You watch the Weather Channel.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up".
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up".
10. You're the one calling the police because those %&@# kids next door won't turn down the stereo.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore
13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
15. Sleeping on the coach makes your back hurt.
16. You take naps.
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3:00 a.m. would severely upset, rather than settle, your stomach.
19. You go to the drug store for Ibuprofen and Antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good shit".
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.
22. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going to drink that much again."
23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.
25. When you find out your friend is pregnant, you congratulate them instead of asking "Oh shit, what the hell happened?"

At the bottom of the email was a bonus question:

26. You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find one to save your sorry old ass. Then you forward it to a bunch of old friends 'cause you know they'll enjoy it too. And now you know why I am forwarding this to you ...


Damn I'm old!
I related to every single one of those items.
Did you?

Sleeping Arrangements - Update

The Husband calls me this morning.
"You gotta come and see this. Crazy dog!"

Why he finds this comfortable is beyond me.




He didn't even move when I took this picture.
Well, I shouldn't say that.
He lifted his head.
A tiny bit.



What?
Go away.
It's not time to get up yet.

Notice the blankets all willy-nilly.
And all the toys gathered 'round.

What a character.
TH is right.
Crazy dog.

Sleeping Arrangements at the Crazy Household

The livestock, as The Husband calls them, have their own special sleeping idiosyncrasies.

As I've mentioned before, Kitty is a bitch and doesn't get along with Puppy. So she lives happily sequestered in the master bedroom. Most days, we don't bother making the bed. Kitty tends to bury herself under the covers and I feel guilty taking away her happy place.

But a messy bed = a messy bedroom.

Not that I'm the best housekeeper. In fact, I really suck at it. The place only gets a good cleaning when we have company. Just ask The Husband. But once in a while I get on a bit of a tidy bender and need to be neat for a while. I'm in Tidy-Mode right now. So the bed is made every morning. Which pisses off Kitty even more.

When the bed is made, she tends to bury herself within the pile-o-pillows.

See ...
there's a little orange furball amongst all those pillows.
Look closely.

She peaks out to see what's going on.



Oh.
It's you.
I was napping you know.
Go away.



Do you mind?!



Gawd!
She's SO cranky!
She's positively glaring at me.
Biotch.

Fine.
Let's go see where Puppy sleeps.
Come with me to the den.

When we adopted Puppy, we were told that Greyhounds are often caged with newspapers, which they shred to make a bed. In order to transition to living in a home, they like to have blankets. So we dug out some old blankets. Which he seems to really love.

Puppy and I play the Blanket Game.
Every day.

Before I go to bed, I fold his blankets into a pile and put his toys on top.

The multi-coloured thing-a-ma-bob on the left is the toy he came with. The hedgehog in the middle and the cow on the right are the toys we gave him when he came to live with us. He loves his toys. He moves them, one at a time, from one place to another every day. He starts out in the den, then takes them downstairs in the afternoon. Then back up again at night to sleep.

Over the course of the evening, he paws at the blankets and gets them into a comfortable position.

I wake up to this:



Once in a while, we let it go to see what will happen. The blankets usually end up halfway across the room. It can get out of control. So before I go to work, I tidy it up a bit.

You'll note that Mr. Hedgehog is AWOL.
He's probably waiting for Puppy downstairs.
So they can play their reindeer games.

Outing The Husband (Exhibit A)

I'm pretty sure The Husband is gay. I point it out to him all the time. He just slaps at me with his limp hand and tells me in his best lisp to Thstop.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind that he's gay. He does cook and do the laundry. And he does pick out lovely decor for the house.

You don't believe me?

I give you Exhibit A:

We had a new patio sliding door installed on Friday. The old door was more than 20 years old and just not functioning well. I spent 10 minutes after the installation, just gliding the door back and forth.

Door opens.
Door closes.
Door opens.
Door closes.

It was so smooth. I'm in heaven. And so is Puppy. The new doors have hatching between the panes that make them look like French doors. Puppy knows now that he has to stop before he hits the glass. White lines mean stop. Good boy!

So the installer leaves when all is done and The Husband is standing on the patio gazing at the new door, taking it all in, grinning like a maniac.

"Want lunch?" I ask through the nice new screen door. "I'll make a tuna sandwich, seeing as it's Good Friday and all."

He shrugs. "Sure." And I start to walk away to go make said sandwich.

"Wait!" I turn around. "Come back, I have an idea." He's frantically gesturing at me to come back. I roll my eyes. Hang my head. Oh God. This can't be good.

"I know what to do!" He's waving is hands up and down like a little girl and practically dancing from one foot to the other. "Here's what you do ... take a can of tuna, one tablespoon of mustard and one teaspoon of Balsamic vinegar. Mix that together gently, then add mayonnaise so that it just sticks together."

I stare at him.

"Not too much mayonnaise," he says, wagging his finger at me. "Just enough."

I continue staring.

"Do you want me to write that down?"

I sigh.
Trudge into the kitchen and do exactly as he tells me.
I bring the bowl to him for a taste test.
"Oh, that's good."
I got the seal of approval. Yay me!
"Add some celery and you can throw in some olives too if you want."

Back to the kitchen.
Chop celery.
Cut some olives.
Mix ... gently.

Lightly toast some bread, spread the tuna mixture on the toast and Voila!

I take a bite.
MMMmmmmmm.
Damn! That is one fine tuna salad sandwich!
Who woulda thunk?

See what I mean?
Gay.
Flaming!

Thumb Update

So ... it's been seven weeks since The Thumb Incident.
I'm beginning to get feeling back.
And it has been growing out quite well.



Until last night.
Houston, we now have lift off.




The damn thing is catching on everything. When I wash my hair, when I get dressed. And it hurts like a sonnova when it gets yanked!

So, in the spirit of the season, my thumb now has its own Easter Bonnet.




Pooh's gonna take care of my thumb and make it all better.

Cuts Like a Knife

I was chopping onions and olives for dinner last night and noticed that the knife just wasn't that sharp.


Crap.
The knife needs sharpening.

This is not my job.
I've pointed out before that sharpening the knife involves handing all metal objects to The Husband, firmly plugging my ears with my fingers and shouting LA LA LA at the top of my lungs in order to drown out the screeching sound of metal gliding against metal.

Geez! I can hardly type that!! [*dry heave*]

Last night was no different.
Well, actually it was, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it, would I?

I hand the knife and the blade sharpener over to the husband. He grins his evil grin and takes one in each hand. He glances over at me, raises an eyebrow as if to ask, Ready?

I plug my ears, squeeze my eyes shut and prepare to start with the La La La-ing.

When suddenly, I hear, at the top of his lungs, The Husband ...

HER NAME IS RIO
AND SHE DANCES ON THE SAND!
JUST LIKE THAT RIVER
TWISTING THROUGH A DUSTY LAND
AND WHEN SHE SHINES
SHE REALLY SHOWS YOU ALL SHE CAN
OH RIO,
RIO DANCE ACROSS THE RIO GRANDE!

I am laughing my head off.
He's giggling like a maniac.

And the knife was sharpened without me even noticing.

God bless his little psychotic heart!

Spring is in the air

Sunday was such a beautiful day in our neck of the woods. Sunny and well above freezing.

The Husband was on a mission. He wanted to put away the snowblower and get out the lawnmower. He was cleaning, polishing and generally tinkering to make sure everything was ship-shape for storage and seasonal usage. He's anal that way. It's one of the many reasons I love him.

First thing on the To Do List was to break out the BBQ. A true sign of Spring! We were excited. Big plans for BBQing that day. Foot long all-beef hot dogs for lunch. Then the biggest steaks I've ever seen for dinner.

We head out to the shed to release the BBQ from its winter prison, parole papers in our hands. The Husband points at a few stubborn flowers that have pushed their way through the soil beside the shed door. "Your flowers are coming through. You should go get your camera."

Good thinking. So I did:



Brave little things, aren't they? Or maybe stupid should be the word, since they're forecasting freezing rain and snow.

*sigh* Maybe we shouldn't have put the snowblower away. At least we still have snow tires on the car.

And for dessert ...

I channelled my inner Martha Stewart yesterday and made some rice pudding. The Husband actually raves about my rice pudding. Which makes me all warm and fuzzy. To quote Shrek: "I don't mean to brag, but I make a mean weedrat stew rice pudding."

I like mine cold, just a little runny, with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

MMMmmmmmmm!!

Not bad for an amateur, huh? There may be hope for me yet!

Tweets and Blogs

I Twitter ... yeah, I know, big surprise.
But then, who doesn't Tweet??
My Twitter site is all about my other blog, Survey Says.
I know, I know ... get a life Mo!
You haven't seen Survey Says?
Well, why not?
Go!
Go now!!
I'll wait ...

I have a few followers on Twitter.
One of them is What's Gaby Cooking?
She's constantly Tweeting about various foods she's cooking.
Well, I finally put two and two together
(honestly, people, I'm not that bright!)
and looked up her site.
Here ... go take a look.

Yummy, n'est pas?

I think I gained about 10 lbs just scrolling through her blog!

Date Night

The Husband and I went out for dinner last night. I needed to go out and wanted some comfort food, so we (OK ... I) picked Montana's. My intention was to have the meatloaf, but I ended up with the Mediterranean Chicken. Yummy.

While we were waiting for our meal, I asked The Husband if we could slip by Walmart before we went home. I wanted to pick up some deodorant. Smelling good is a priority for me. He glanced at his watch.

"Yeah, I think we have time."

"Well, I just want some deodorant, so we can just go in and get out," I assured him.

The look of horror on his face was priceless. "Why would we do that? We're going to Walmart. We can't just walk in and walk out. We have to browse."

"Fine." (eyes rolling)

After dinner, on the way to the car, he takes my hand.

"This is like a real date. Dinner then Walmart."

I snicker. "You don't expect me to put out do you? Cuz, you know, big dinner and all ..."

"No, but if we were going to JC Penny, I'd expect a lot more."

The Coaster Vows

Over at Pictures, Poetry & Prose, Laura Jayne posts a picture and encourages us to write.

I've written a few things. It's a secret passion of mine. I wanted to be a writer. I had planned to go to university in Ottawa and take writing, but just couldn't swing it financially. So I express myself here ... and on everyone else's blog.

Recently, Pictures, Poetry & Prose had a blog titled Thrill Ride. The prompt was to "Include a roller coaster in your writing today." The Husband and I are coaster junkies. And I've always thought that marriage is a roller coaster ride. Thrilling, fun and just a little scary. So I wrote from my heart. I felt pretty good about the piece, but then Laura Jayne commented on it.

Thanks, Laura Jayne, you really made my day! *blush*



Thrill Ride

Do you take this man
to ride with you through life,
through all the ups and downs
the lows and highs?

To chug up the hills and
rush down with terrifying speed.
To take the hairpin curves and
the corkscrew turns.

To hold hands high in the air.
To scream and yell and laugh.
To ride in fair weather.
And still ride despite the rain.

Do you take this man
to be your partner on this ride of life?

I do.
With all my heart I do.