Here is a list of the candy I have eaten since and including Hallowe'en:
46 Rocket candies; my single favourite candy EVER.
13 mini Caramilks; mostly the two-square variety, but some just singles.
One entire KitKat bar; Gimme a break, gimme a break, break me off a...peice? Yeah, right.
Three triangles of a Toblerone bar. Not the store-counter variety; not the movie-theatre size; the AIRPORT size. Who is thinking these things up, anyway? Those bars are ginormeous! I think they're sold in airports beacuse in a pinch they could be used to jam under the airplane tire to stop it from rolling away from the gate.
Seven mini bags of Doritos; thank-you Shannon and Kris.
Eleven Starburst.
Twelve mini boxes of Smarties; all colors. Some may have melted in my hand.
Beyond that, my dinner tonight consisted of a white-bread peanut butter sandwich and this week I have only yoga'ed and gym'ed once.
Needless to say, between the dwindling daylight, the fact that there is less than 100days until Opening Ceremonies and my 'special feminine time' this is truly my Perfect Storm. If anyone has non-perishable food items (like Mars bars or popcorn) I am accepting donations.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Grateful Post
This weekend was the last long weekend of the year. Typically this weekend involves family and either a very long drive back to the Townships or else everyone coming here. This year we took things in a different direction.
On Friday night Simon celebrated his eighth birthday with his friends. While it was a bit tricky and somewhat harrowing to hold a birthday party on a Friday night, it worked out really well.
Saturday morning, after a long, brisk walk and a visit to Starbucks, we drove up to the cottage to take down the summer effects; Under a clear, sunny sky we raked, brought in the Adirondack chairs and kayaks, dismantled the gazebo etc...At night we rented movies and ate a hearty casserole.
On Sunday we drove home and prepared to host our friends for Thanksgiving supper. Besides preparing the meal for 14 people, Elizabeth and I did some fall planting and about six thousand loads of laundry. The evening consisted of, among other things, several bottles of champagne, mountains of food and desserts, excellent conversation and gaggles of children treating my house like a Formula One course.
And today is just a bonus day. Groceries are done, the cleaning lady is on her way and the kids had no homework. I will read, grab a yoga class, perhaps go for a hike across the river and eat leftovers for supper.
In all, a delightfully perfect weekend but none of it worth anything were I not perfectly aware of how fortunate I am to have any of it. I am surrounded by good friends, wonderful children and a Saint of a husband. I am blessed with not one, but two wonderful places to call home, a challenging and rewarding job and the wisdom to know that it does not define me. I have travelled to some of the most beautiful, humbling places on earth, eaten some excellent meals, drank some wine and laughed until I cried. I have girlfriends that could not be replaced by Deepak Choprah, Oprah Winfrey and Mother Theresa combined and I have a family that, while it is not without it's quirks, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Lastly, of course I am grateful for my own health and that of my loved ones. I know firsthand how quickly it can be taken from you, leaving you feeling powerless and scared.
On Friday night Simon celebrated his eighth birthday with his friends. While it was a bit tricky and somewhat harrowing to hold a birthday party on a Friday night, it worked out really well.
Saturday morning, after a long, brisk walk and a visit to Starbucks, we drove up to the cottage to take down the summer effects; Under a clear, sunny sky we raked, brought in the Adirondack chairs and kayaks, dismantled the gazebo etc...At night we rented movies and ate a hearty casserole.
On Sunday we drove home and prepared to host our friends for Thanksgiving supper. Besides preparing the meal for 14 people, Elizabeth and I did some fall planting and about six thousand loads of laundry. The evening consisted of, among other things, several bottles of champagne, mountains of food and desserts, excellent conversation and gaggles of children treating my house like a Formula One course.
And today is just a bonus day. Groceries are done, the cleaning lady is on her way and the kids had no homework. I will read, grab a yoga class, perhaps go for a hike across the river and eat leftovers for supper.
In all, a delightfully perfect weekend but none of it worth anything were I not perfectly aware of how fortunate I am to have any of it. I am surrounded by good friends, wonderful children and a Saint of a husband. I am blessed with not one, but two wonderful places to call home, a challenging and rewarding job and the wisdom to know that it does not define me. I have travelled to some of the most beautiful, humbling places on earth, eaten some excellent meals, drank some wine and laughed until I cried. I have girlfriends that could not be replaced by Deepak Choprah, Oprah Winfrey and Mother Theresa combined and I have a family that, while it is not without it's quirks, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Lastly, of course I am grateful for my own health and that of my loved ones. I know firsthand how quickly it can be taken from you, leaving you feeling powerless and scared.
The problem with being thankful is that I feel that I am testing fate; pushing my limits of what is 'my fair share' of good fortune. As though if someone were to see my list of things that I am thankful for they would say, "hey, wait a minute...that's waaaay over the limit. We're taking some back".
My thoughts this weekend have not been far from those who have had some of their good fortune taken back. Life can be unfair at times and your loss is a testament to that fact.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
The Magazine Post
I almost always pick a really long line-up so I can spend a little time perusing the trashy magazines. I love catching up with Jon and Kate and Brad and Angie, guessing who's ass is whose and voting on who wore it best, but my frugal Scottish heritage never allows me to actually buy them, so by just ripping off the best parts of the magazine, I feel like I'm practically earning money.
So tonight I make an impromptu stop at the neighbourhood grocer to pick up bread. My line-up is very quick, so there's no time to catch up with my fake friends, but one magazine cover catches my eye and actually makes me laugh out loud. It's a Cosmo or something and it's main headliner in this issue is "50 sex tricks that will drive him wild"
50? Who on earth is a) going to remember 50 anything, much less 'sex tricks' and b) keep them all straight? What if you got them mixed up? I mean, mathematically speaking, if you got your wires crossed you could be looking at like, more than 2000 'tricks'!
More to the point, what qualifies as a trick, exactly? Are we talking, like Rod Stewart level tricks or more like, arch your back a bit or brush your teeth first?
Now, I am no casonovette; I have not written or read any sexiquette literature, but despite my somewhat limited experience I can say this for sure: The number of men getting out of bed and thinking to themselves, "hmm, I wish that was more amazing" is on par with the number of leprechauns purchasing bridges in Atlantis.
The next time you're in the grocery store line-up, take a peek at the covers of these 'women's' magazines. Take note of the headline issues; "make him happier doing this","keep him wanting more of that"...now look at the cover of GQ or Men's Health. Notice a difference?
You want a trick for him? Sex on a weeknight. That will blow his mind.
So tonight I make an impromptu stop at the neighbourhood grocer to pick up bread. My line-up is very quick, so there's no time to catch up with my fake friends, but one magazine cover catches my eye and actually makes me laugh out loud. It's a Cosmo or something and it's main headliner in this issue is "50 sex tricks that will drive him wild"
50? Who on earth is a) going to remember 50 anything, much less 'sex tricks' and b) keep them all straight? What if you got them mixed up? I mean, mathematically speaking, if you got your wires crossed you could be looking at like, more than 2000 'tricks'!
More to the point, what qualifies as a trick, exactly? Are we talking, like Rod Stewart level tricks or more like, arch your back a bit or brush your teeth first?
Now, I am no casonovette; I have not written or read any sexiquette literature, but despite my somewhat limited experience I can say this for sure: The number of men getting out of bed and thinking to themselves, "hmm, I wish that was more amazing" is on par with the number of leprechauns purchasing bridges in Atlantis.
The next time you're in the grocery store line-up, take a peek at the covers of these 'women's' magazines. Take note of the headline issues; "make him happier doing this","keep him wanting more of that"...now look at the cover of GQ or Men's Health. Notice a difference?
You want a trick for him? Sex on a weeknight. That will blow his mind.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The Dawg Post
We’re saying good-bye to an old friend this week. More than a friend; a member of our family. Morely has been with us for over 14 years. Eight houses, the birth of two children, the loss of two, the move to Ottawa, numerous drunken Christmas parties, vacations at the cottage. Morely has been here for us in our worst moments, has witnessed our biggest fights and arguments. He knows our secrets and our habits; has watched us laugh and cry.
I am not one to equate pets with people; I do not feel they are the same. I don’t have framed pictures of my dog at the office; I don’t recount cute little doggie anecdotes. He does not and never has slept in our bed (except after we have left for the day – that’s right Morely, we knew you did that) but Morely was a good, good dog. A face only a mother could love. Simon described Morely as a very ‘fancy dog’. And he was.
I don’t know how to say good-bye to a friend like this. I want him to know how much we love him and how much he touched our lives. I want him to know that I could never have asked for a better dog and I feel truly unworthy of his spirit and his kindness. My children adore him and I know what it will have meant to their lives having had a dog this wonderful and fun and gentle see them though their formative years.
We love you Morley. As I sit with you today, watching your life slowly slip away my heart breaks at the thought of not seeing you bouncing across the kitchen at the sight of your leash and a plastic bag. I will sit with you until your brown eyes close for the last time because you would do the same for us.
I am not one to equate pets with people; I do not feel they are the same. I don’t have framed pictures of my dog at the office; I don’t recount cute little doggie anecdotes. He does not and never has slept in our bed (except after we have left for the day – that’s right Morely, we knew you did that) but Morely was a good, good dog. A face only a mother could love. Simon described Morely as a very ‘fancy dog’. And he was.
I don’t know how to say good-bye to a friend like this. I want him to know how much we love him and how much he touched our lives. I want him to know that I could never have asked for a better dog and I feel truly unworthy of his spirit and his kindness. My children adore him and I know what it will have meant to their lives having had a dog this wonderful and fun and gentle see them though their formative years.
We love you Morley. As I sit with you today, watching your life slowly slip away my heart breaks at the thought of not seeing you bouncing across the kitchen at the sight of your leash and a plastic bag. I will sit with you until your brown eyes close for the last time because you would do the same for us.
Friday, May 15, 2009
A Few Things I Would Like to Point Out:
1. Ladies: Anything you bought at Lululemon is considered workout wear. Stop wearing those pants with heels. It looks like you left the gym and forgot to change your pants.
2. Men: I know it's not actually 'illegal' to go shirtless in public, but it should be. Your white hairy chest and your pink nipples are more than the general public should have to bear. Furthermore, when you tuck your t-shirt into the back pocket of your jeans and it dangles down like an SOS sign from a burning building, well, I want to run you over with my car.
Don't get me started on your armpits either.
3. In your car: We can see you picking your nose. Yep, knuckle deep, digging for gold, tickling brain...your car is not your invisible fortress.
4. In the airport: When the gate attendant announces that 'we will now begin boarding' there is no need to form a 75metre long line that snakes through the airport and holds up other travellers trying to get to their gates. Your ticket is not General Admission. You have an assigned seat and no one is going to take it from you. Why you think lining up is necessary is beyond me. Even more baffling is why you would want to get into that tiny little seat next to your new best friend any second sooner than you have to.
5. At work: Here is a short list of what is unacceptable attire at the office: leggings, flip-flops, clothing with writing on the bum, skirts that stop more that four inches above the knee (yes, even if you have paired them with leggings), low-cut tops, camisoles, spaghetti straps, tube-tops (God, I can't even believe I need to point that one out), Oversized T-shirts, and I don't care what day of the week it is or how comfortable you are at work, it is never acceptable to walk around the office in your bare feet.
That's it. A pretty short list actually.
2. Men: I know it's not actually 'illegal' to go shirtless in public, but it should be. Your white hairy chest and your pink nipples are more than the general public should have to bear. Furthermore, when you tuck your t-shirt into the back pocket of your jeans and it dangles down like an SOS sign from a burning building, well, I want to run you over with my car.
Don't get me started on your armpits either.
3. In your car: We can see you picking your nose. Yep, knuckle deep, digging for gold, tickling brain...your car is not your invisible fortress.
4. In the airport: When the gate attendant announces that 'we will now begin boarding' there is no need to form a 75metre long line that snakes through the airport and holds up other travellers trying to get to their gates. Your ticket is not General Admission. You have an assigned seat and no one is going to take it from you. Why you think lining up is necessary is beyond me. Even more baffling is why you would want to get into that tiny little seat next to your new best friend any second sooner than you have to.
5. At work: Here is a short list of what is unacceptable attire at the office: leggings, flip-flops, clothing with writing on the bum, skirts that stop more that four inches above the knee (yes, even if you have paired them with leggings), low-cut tops, camisoles, spaghetti straps, tube-tops (God, I can't even believe I need to point that one out), Oversized T-shirts, and I don't care what day of the week it is or how comfortable you are at work, it is never acceptable to walk around the office in your bare feet.
That's it. A pretty short list actually.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The Christening Post.
Our Nephew is being Christened this weekend.
Last night at the dinner table my son (age 7) asked what a Christening was. I started explaining some of the details but before I could get very far, Simon interrupted and said "oh, like in the Lion King when they held Simba up over the cliff" and I said, well, yes...sort of...and then he said "except it won't be a monkey that holds him up".
It should be an interesting ceremony for all.
Last night at the dinner table my son (age 7) asked what a Christening was. I started explaining some of the details but before I could get very far, Simon interrupted and said "oh, like in the Lion King when they held Simba up over the cliff" and I said, well, yes...sort of...and then he said "except it won't be a monkey that holds him up".
It should be an interesting ceremony for all.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Smoking Post
The sun is out, the weather is warm and you know what goes really well with those two things? A pitcher of Margaritas and a smoke.
It's true. Many years ago that's exactly what I would be embracing every Friday night (well, to be honest, it wasn't just Fridays).
It's been 8 years since I had a cigarette and every time I walk past a terrace of people smoking and drinking I am filled with the immortal sin of envy.
The truth is, I loved smoking. I loved the smell, I loved the feel of the cigarette in between my fingers, I loved the taste and truly, I loved the way it looked. Say what you want, but smoking is cool.
I would like to tell you that I quit smoking for my health or my pregnancies or because my children asked me to do it as their Birthday presents, but the truth is, I was forced to quit by powers beyond my control. Simply put, my body physically rejected nicotine. Violently rejected it. All over the bathroom of a Thai restaurant in the Market. I will spare you the details, but will impart one piece of wisdom from that near-death experience. Don't leave the lid down on public toilets. Especially in Thai restaurants.
For those of you hanger-on-ers...enjoy these days. Enjoy the taste of the cigarette paired with the wine after a good meal. Enjoy that perfume on your clothes and that non-existent ten pounds that the non-smokers are carrying around. Of course when winter rolls around and you are still gripped by Cigarette's evil talons, standing in the -35C weather shivering your asses off, I will rejoice in my superiority, but for now, I am jealous.
Okay, off for a run!
It's true. Many years ago that's exactly what I would be embracing every Friday night (well, to be honest, it wasn't just Fridays).
It's been 8 years since I had a cigarette and every time I walk past a terrace of people smoking and drinking I am filled with the immortal sin of envy.
The truth is, I loved smoking. I loved the smell, I loved the feel of the cigarette in between my fingers, I loved the taste and truly, I loved the way it looked. Say what you want, but smoking is cool.
I would like to tell you that I quit smoking for my health or my pregnancies or because my children asked me to do it as their Birthday presents, but the truth is, I was forced to quit by powers beyond my control. Simply put, my body physically rejected nicotine. Violently rejected it. All over the bathroom of a Thai restaurant in the Market. I will spare you the details, but will impart one piece of wisdom from that near-death experience. Don't leave the lid down on public toilets. Especially in Thai restaurants.
For those of you hanger-on-ers...enjoy these days. Enjoy the taste of the cigarette paired with the wine after a good meal. Enjoy that perfume on your clothes and that non-existent ten pounds that the non-smokers are carrying around. Of course when winter rolls around and you are still gripped by Cigarette's evil talons, standing in the -35C weather shivering your asses off, I will rejoice in my superiority, but for now, I am jealous.
Okay, off for a run!
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