On the Road Again

Finally!

After two years of waiting ...





That's me on the left.
TH's is on the right.

With our crazy schedules,
we haven't been out for two years.
It seemed that whenever we got the chance to go for a ride,
it would be raining.

Me and Mother Nature don't always see eye to eye.

Not to mention that there's something wrong with my bike.
TH changed the battery,
drained the old gas out of it,
and it's working better,
but still not perfect.

It's not accelerating like it should,
and seems to top out at 120 km.
Which I appreciate is fast,
but I know it can easily
and comfortably,
do 140 km.

TH is going to bring it in for service.
He thinks the carburetor needs cleaning.

But that didn't stop us from going out for a ride yesterday.
It was a gorgeous day!
We went out for breakfast
(I love to go out for breakfast!)
meandered out to Lindsay,
then wandered back,
stopped to pick up some tarts at a bakery,
and headed back home.

I have the oddest tan sunburn.
Raccoon eyes, since I was wearing goggles.
A nice V-burn down my throat.
And my forearms ... from my elbow to just above my wrist ...
the only part of my arm exposed from wearing
a three-quarter length sleeve and gloves.

I look like a dork.
A biker dork,
but a dork, nonetheless.

Million Dollar Questions

As I mentioned previously,
I'm participating in a sleep study.
I've done this before,
so I'm pretty familiar with the routine.

Every night before bed,
I take the test medication.
Because it's a double-blind study,
neither I, nor the sleep lab,
know for sure if I'm taking the real thing
or the placebo.

I can assure, I'll know.
If I get more than four hours of sleep,
not only will I be a happy camper,
but I'll know that I'm taking the real deal.

I'm given a log pad that looks much like a Black Berry.
I complete a questionnaire every evening before bed,
and every morning when I wake.

How well did you sleep?
How many times did you wake up?
How many minutes/hours were you awake?
How do you feel right now?

blah blah blah

The drug company is a little paranoid.
It's their first time testing a sleep drug.
They're covering all the bases.
They're particularly concerned about
depression and suicide.

The screening questions were very interesting.
Some were expected and not surprising.
Others ... well ...


Do you sometimes believe that messages are relayed to you via the radio, television or newspaper?

Hell yeah! How else are the Powers supposed to communicate?

Do your friends or members of your family think some of your ideas are questionable?

Of course. Have you heard some of my ideas?

Do you sometimes think that you are invincible and above reproach?

Yes. And I even have a cape to prove it.


Then the questions got weird
and crossed over a line even I wouldn't travel over.

The answers I posted above were in jest,
and not what I said during the interview.
But the responses below were, in fact, my answers.


Do you sometimes hurt or kill small animals?

WHAT?! NO!!

Have you ever forced small children to have sex with you?

WHAT?!! WHAT THE HELL?! NO!!!! HAS SOMEONE SAID YES TO THAT?!


That was disturbing on so many levels.
I had some pretty vivid nightmares.
It's no wonder I didn't sleep well last night.

Sleepless in Toronto

I have insomnia.
It's pretty bad.
I am perpetually tired.

If you've ever seen the movie Fight Club,
you'll recall the voice over;
how he talks about being tired
and going through his day in a daze.

That's what it's like.
I may joke that I can't remember what I had for breakfast today,
but most of the time I'm not kidding.
Most of the time I'm so tired, I can barely think.

TH heard an ad on Q107 a couple of years ago.
It was for a clinical trial for a new sleep aid.
He wrote down the number.
"Call these guys," he says.

So I did.

It was a fascinating process,
and I learned so much about my sleep habits.
Or, rather, lack thereof.

The drug I tested worked like a charm!
I became a morning person.
I would wake at 5 am, before the alarm went off,
bound out of bed, excited about the day.

It drove TH nuts.

But the pharmaceutical company merged with another
and the other company already had a good sleep drug,
so the one I tested was shelved.

Crap!

Now I'm testing a new one.
Last night was my first night at the sleep clinic.
Not surprising, I didn't sleep very well.
Ask me how tired I am.
No ... wait ... ask me what my name is,
cuz I can assure you, I'll have to think about the answer.

Breakfast of Champions

So, Robi and I are at Union Station this morning,
doing the daily coffee/breakfast run.

Timmies for Boss #1.
I decided on Timmies, too.
Robi had a craving for Mickey Dees.

We're standing in line at the Golden Arches.
An older man with a rolling suitcase
(I'll give him late 60s, early 70s)
was in front of us.
It appeared that he changed his mind,
decided against McDonalds for breakfast,
and he started to leave the line.

He turns around and asks me:
"Do you know if somone sells ice cream around here?"

Without hesitating, I put on a mock stern face.
"Are you having ice cream for breakfast, sir?
Didn't your mother raise you better than that?!"

He laughed.
"I can have whatever I want for breakfast."

I have a new hero!

Dinner for Two

TH made dinner last night.
Not that this differs from any other night.
The fact is, I work stupid hours.
And since he usually gets home at least an hour and a half before me,
it makes sense for him to make dinner.

Not to mention that he's waaaay better at it.

I'm thinking of starting a new blog for him.
He really does deserve it.
Dinner by TH
or maybe
Creations of a Would-Be Chef
but more likely
Chef by Default


On Tuesday, he made homemade hamburgers and frites.
While that was all cooking, he was chopping veggies
and throwing them into a bowl.
I asked him if he wanted lettuce for the salad.
He said no, "This is for tomorrow."

Tomorrow?
What's tomorrow?

"It's the day after today."
Smart ass.

He said he was coming up with something for dinner.
Said it with that grin he has that says he's up to something.
I was scared.

But then, I was downstairs on the computer,
putting some time into my book,
and this delicious aroma wafts down the stairwell,
and seduces me.

I walk upstairs.
"Smells good in here," I say,
trying to get a look at what he's doing.

"Good," is all he says.
He won't give up his secret.
I hate that about him.

I came home from work yesterday,
late as usual,
though not as late as normal.

"I can make up sausages
to go with the salad if you want," he says.

I start to drool. "Perfect!"

"Good thing," he says, and walks downstairs.
He's already boiled the sausages
and now he's going to BBQ them.

We pop open a couple of beers and sit outside while they sizzle.
How much more romantic can it get?

I didn't get a shot of the sausages,
but I did take a picture of the salad.
Am I a lucky girl, or what?!

Rhythm Nation

A co-worker just got engaged.
Her boyfriend popped the question last weekened.

She is the sweetest thing ever,
and I'm so happy for her!

She raised an issue that I'm sure
many women have wrestled with.

Do I take his name?

I have to admit,
(and know that I love you TH!)
that I often regret not keeping my maiden name.
I have a very French-sounding name
and it flowed well with my maiden name,
though most people mispronounced it.

Now, I've traded it in for another one
that no one can pronounce.

But Janet,
that's my co-worker's name,
has a huge dilemma.

Her fiance's surname is Jackson.

Yup.
You read that right.
Our tiny, white-bread friend
will be called Janet Jackson.

It gets better.

Her maiden name is ...
wait for it ...



Black.


Sweet, little Janet will hereafter be known as
Janet Black Jackson.

But don't call her baby.
It's Janet.
Miss Jackson, if you're Nasty.

Such a Tool

Courtini sent a bunch of the girls at work
this little quiz.

* * *

Do not go to the next calculation
before you have finished the previous one.

You do not need to write or remember the answers,
just do it using your mind.

Here we go ...


How much is:

15 + 6

3 + 56

89 + 2

75 + 26



I know! Calculations are hard work, but it's nearly over.

Come on, one more:

1233 + 5



Now ...

THINK ABOUT A TOOL AND A COLOUR!


Scroll further to the bottom...





A bit more...







You just thought about a red hammer, didn't you?

If this is not your answer,
you are among 2% of people
who have a different, if not abnormal, mind.

98% of folks answer a red hammer while doing this exercise.

* * *

Is it any surprise that I'm in the 2%?
I'm definitely different.
Probably abnormal.

I thought of a green screwdriver.
Of course, since I'm colour-blind,
it could be blue.
Who knows.

Courtini thought of a blue saw.
(or maybe it was green.)

At one point, she pipes up:
"Sarah thought of a red hoe!"

I laugh.

"That's cuz she IS a red hoe!"

Layers of Yummy Goodness

When I posted the pictures from Memère's birthday party,
I was scrolling through the other pictures on my camera.
It's surprising how many pictures I have on that thing.
I should probably do something about that.

Anyhooooo ....

I came across a few that I had meant to post ages ago.

TH's parents know he's a pretty good cook.
So my Father-in-Law hits him up.

"Son," he says, in his thick accent.
"I haven't had lasagna in a long time.
Would you like to make us some lasagna?
I could buy the noodles for you."

TH rolls his eyes and smiles.
It's really hard to deny the FIL.
He must be the sweetest man on earth.
I'm thankful TH inherited that gene.

"Yes, dad," says TH, with a laugh.
"I'll make you a lasagna."
Thinking it will be a week or so.

Nope.

The next day, we get a phone call.
"I bought the noodles.
When can you come over?"

So TH made lasagna:



You can see the mouth-watering layers of spinach and Ricotta.
The oozing goodness of Mozzarella.
The crisp edges of the top layer.



I'm so happy I married a gay man good cook.

Still Going Strong

Just came back from a wild party in Sudbury,
celebrating Memère's 100th birthday.

Well ... as wild as that kind of party can get.

She was in good spirits and,
other than having some difficulty walking,
is in pretty good health.
Not bad, considering she's a century old.



We drove up on Friday.
TH and I stopped at the French River
for a picnic lunch.



Notice we have placemats?
TH's doing.
*cough* queer *cough*

This rest stop is very pretty.
And very quiet.
I took a few other pictures.

We spent the evening with my parents.
I haven't seen them in a while,
so it was really nice to just relax.
Well ... as much as you can relax
when playing Mario Brothers.

Memère's party was on Saturday.
We woke up to this lovely weather:



WTF?!?!

But this didn't deter anyone from coming to the party.
We're a hardy bunch, if nothing else.

My aunts and uncles arranged for certificates
from various people, including
the Mayor of Sudbury,
the Prime Minister of Canada, and
the Pope.



Various grandchildren were selected
to present Memère
with the certificates.

I presented the Mayor's congratulations.



We played cards with Memère.
She won every hand.
Actually, it's not that she won every hand,
but she didn't lose either.

I'm telling you,
the old woman cheats!

While we're playing cards, an old man shows up.
I don't recognize him.
Neither do the other people playing cards.
He leans over to Memère and gives her a kiss.
On the mouth!
I look over at Cousin Alex.
"I'm sure he's a cousin," I say.

Apparently not.
Turns out, he's one of Memère's card playing buddies.
Does this sound clandestine or what?
He tells us they've been playing cards for ages.
Then proceeds to tell us he's 98 years old.
Cousin Alex pipes up, "Well, Memère likes them young!"
We all laugh.
Even Memère.
And Cousin Alex turned a deep red!


Then time for cake.



Notice the earrings and broach.
And her nails are just so.
It's not for the party.
She's always done up like this.
Memère is a bit of a diva.

When we left the party,
it was still going strong.
And Memère was in the middle of it all.
God bless her!

Despite the snow,
there was no accumulation.
But it did make for a pretty drive home.

Out of Town Guests

So, I have this friend at work.
We'll call her POB.
Pissed Off Bride.

POB has a psycho future Mother-in-Law.
I've told POB to run away.
Now.
While she can.
She won't listen.

Fine.
It's your funeral wedding.

The stories POB has told make me wonder if the MIL
is living vicariously through her.

She insists that the wedding be a certain date,
so that it works with HER schedule.
To hell with the bride and groom.

She tells people she's paying for the wedding,
when she's not.

And she's giving POB a hard time on her choice of attire.
Honey, if you want to wear pink cowboy boots under your dress,
you go girl!

But the icing on the cake, was the guest list.
POB was presented with
a very long list of guests
from the MIL.

She sent it back.
Pare it down.
We don't have the budget for this.
MIL sends it back.
These are all people who MUST be invited.
So POB sends out invitations.
One, in particular, is sent back.
She spends weeks tracking down a new address.

Only to find out the person is deceased.
Passed away EIGHT YEARS AGO!

I say,
If MIL really wants this person at the wedding,
she should pay for the travel arrangements.

The Dog's List

Thanks to Tara who sent me this piece.
Tara, BTW, lives in the Cayman Islands.
All together now ...
"We hate you, Tara!"

There are pros and cons to living in the Caymans.
Every once in a while, I get an Out-of-Office Reply
after sending her an email:

"Please be advised that due to the impending hurricane,
our offices are closed until further notice."

Well.
That says it all, doesn't it?


But on to funnier things ...

* * *

The Dog's List of Things to Remember

1. I will not eat the cat's food before they eat it or after they throw it up.


2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.


3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.


4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.


5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.


6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.


7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'.


8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table


9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur BEFORE entering the house - not after.


10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.


11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.


12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

Now, if I could just get Puppy to read 1, 3 and 12.
And 7. Especially 7.
Cuz I'm usually the recipient of that one.