Return of the evil ninja assassin cat

Morning greetings, Large One. I see you and your skin kittens feeding at the table. I spurn your meal. It is a meal fit only for humans. Toasted bread and brown sticky spread from nuts that grow underground. Pah! I spit on your meal. (I mean, if my mighty death-dealing jaws were able to spit, I'd spit on your meal.)

Not for you are the tasty flayed carcasses of mice, or the heady intoxication of bacon 'n' liver dinner fresh from the can. Not for you is the cool fresh water lapped from the large white bowl in the room where the skin kittens immerse themselves in vile baths. Not for you are the.......wait.....I smell milk! Ah milk, sweet nectar of the feline gods, second only to the warm, salty tang of blood from still-twitching prey.

I am the evil ninja assassin cat! I. Will. Have. Your. Milk.

I will use all my ninja skills. I will use my stealth and my grace to perform such acrobatics as are necessary to acquire the milk that should, nay must, be mine! You dull humans will not even see me as I impersonate the shadows and the darkness to liberate that which should by rights belong to the superior being in this household.

It begins.

Intimidation and cranberry sauce

Today, American President Barack Obama is visiting Ottawa. Also, I was late for work this morning.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that these two events are linked, but actually they're not. It wasn't presidential road closures or steely-eyed Secret Service types that prevented me from reaching the office on time. It was gang activity.

Yeah, in West Carleton. I know. I'm surprised and disturbed too. There I was, minding my own business, driving down Old Carp Road, when a gang stepped out into the street. A girl gang. All dressed alike in black, sneering at me. They were loitering all over the front yards of a couple of houses, and when they saw me coming, they stepped out into the road, blocking my way. Daring me to blow my horn at them or get angry. I'm not ashamed to admit I was a little scared. They looked mean.






When I got out my camera and started snapping pictures they moved off, swearing at me. At least they didn't key my car.

As I drove away, I started to feel hungry, and I swear I could smell sage.

How I spent Valentine's Day

Becca was back in town from college, and she came over to our place to hang out and visit with me and the girls. This had something nothing to do with the fact her parents wanted to have a romantic Valentine's Day evening at home alone.

This is what we did

Tobogganing:



(Notice how Rachel tries to take her big sister out at the bottom of the hill in the above clip. Sisterly love at its best.)



Rachel doesn't make it all the way down the hill this time. She ends up with only Becca's hat and no sled.

Cooking:


Making a heart-shaped pizza is harder than you'd think. A quarter is cheese-only because Rae is too damn picky possessed of a discriminating palate.


Caesar salad. Thanks to Daysgoby for the crouton recipe, they were soooo good.

Eating:


After that, I lost interest in photography, but we had ice cream and strawberries for dessert and then we all watched Mamma Mia! on DVD and I wanted to sing, but Rae kept shushing me. Then the girls fell asleep and Becca and I watched the late hockey game on TV and talked.

It was a very good Valentine's Day.

L is for loser, that's good enough for me

I'm either a really nice mum, or certifiably insane, or maybe both. Friday is a PD day at the girls' school, so today is the day that they will be exchanging valentines. Of course, we did not purchase valentine cards when they hit the shelves, back in late December, nor are we the Martha kind of family who hand-makes individual valentines out of red velvet, Alençon lace, spun-gold thread and unicorn hair, so I realized yesterday that we would have to go shopping for VDay cards that night so that my girls would not suffer social ostracism at school. ("Yeah," I can hear you saying, "Good luck with that.") It took stops at 5 stores (one department store, 2 grocery stores and 2 pharmacies) before we found some that weren't either Dora the Exporer or Hannah Montana. Which meant that Leah and Rachel were up past their bedtime filling out the cards and taping a foil-wrapped chocolate heart to each one (because cards are not enough, apparently).

And then while making lunches this morning, an olive escaped when I was transferring it from the jar to a container for Leah. It bounced across the kitchen counter, onto the dining room floor, where it rolled between the CD tower and the wall. Batting a very interested Max away, I sat on the floor to retrieve it, instead of just bending over. Why, I don't know -- probably because I was so tired from wrangling overtired kids to bed way too late, and from having a crappy night's sleep because of Rachel ending up in bed with me -- but it provided the opportunity for some sticky-backed foam letters and numbers that had been left on the floor when the girls were making crafts to afix themselves to the seat of my pants. I didn't notice, and if the girls did, they weren't saying. So I came to work this morning with a purple S and a yellow 8 stuck to my jeans. I was like some kind of pervy Sesame Street episode: "Today's ass is brought to you by the number 8 and the letter S."

Luckily I saw them in the mirror when I went into the washroom very soon after I got to work, so I don't think very many people anyone noticed. Loser.

Singin' the blues

Well, it turns out my car has a faulty crank sensor. Alrighty then. (I wonder if people can have this problem too, and that's why they're so cranky -- their sensor is faulty and they don't know that they should just lighten the hell up. But I digress...)

The good news is that I should get the car back today, and that my amazing friend and next-door-neighbour Connie drove my kids to daycare and me to work yesterday, and then picked us all back up and brought us home. (I have the Best. Neighbours. Ever.) I'm working at home today so I'll be able to pick it up when it's ready. Also, it's a fairly small repair bill, which is a good thing.

The bad news is we're expecting freezing rain all afternoon, and if I don't get the car back early enough, I'll have to walk to the school in freezing rain to pick the girls up and walk them home, because school buses were cancelled today. Leah had a 7:30 a.m. dentist appointment, we left the house on foot at 7:00 for the dentist's office (sort of halfway between home and school) and I didn't listen to the radio before we left to hear the news and didn't discover it until we had walked to school and found that it was in snow-day mode and there would be no buses home. Sigh.

Oh, and my staus as Angel of Death, Appliance Division (Canada) seems to be totally without dispute, as yesterday, the dryer heater died. It'll tumble, but it won't get hot. Double sigh.

Now if you're thinking (and I don't blame you if you are), "Alison's whining about her life AGAIN!", this was actually a long-winded and only marginally clever intro to this:

What's your blues name?

Follow the instructions below for the genuine thrill that comes with discovering your blues name: From the first list, take the name using the initial of your first name. From the second list, do the same with your middle name. From the third, your surname.

First List: A=Fat; B=Muddy ; C=Crippled; D=Old; E=Texas; F=Hollerin'; G=Ugly; H=Brown; I=Happy; J=Boney; K=Curly; L=Pretty; M=Jailhouse; N=Peg Leg; O=Red; P=Sleepy; Q=Bald; R=Skinny; S=Blind; T=Big; U=Yella; V=Toothless; W=Screamin'; X=FatBoy; Y=Washboard; Z=Steel-Eye

Second List: A=Bones; B=Money; C=Harp; D=Legs; E=Eyes; F=Lemon; G=Killer; H=Hips; I=Lips; J=Fingers; K=Boy; L=Liver; M=Gumbo; N=Foot; O=Mama; P=Back; Q=Duke; R=Dog; S=Bad Boy; T=Baby; U=Chicken; V=Pickles; W=Sugar; X=Cracker; Y=Tooth; Z=Smoke

Third List: A=Jackson; B=McGee; C=Hopkins; D=Dupree; E=Green; F=Brown; G=Jones; H=Rivers; I=Malone; J=Washington; K=Smith; L=Parker; M=Lee; N=Thompkins; O=King; P=Bradley; Q=Hawkins; R=Jefferson; S=Davis; T=Franklin; U=White; V=Jenkins; W=Bailey; X=Johnson; Y=Blue; Z=Allison

You can call me Fat Fingers Bailey. Now where's my harmonica?

Be careful what you wish for

Yeah, don't say things like, "I really wish I could get more exercise." Because you totally know it's going to come back and bite you on the ass.

Case in point: I made the above statement yesterday during a conversation with the mom of one of Rae's friends. Apparently the Universe was listening. This morning, the car wouldn't start. Crap. OK, well, we'll walk to school. It was pretty cold, but they were dressed for it, and it wasn't too bad. Round trip distance for me, about 2 km.

I called CAA when I got home, and they said they'd send someone to boost me. When the guy showed up, it was a good thing he was driving a tow truck, because it wasn't the battery that was the problem. So I jumped in the truck and he towed my car to the small neighbourhood garage I use, which is about 5 km away. After the mechanics said they'd look at the car this afternoon, the tow truck driver said, "have a nice day," and left. By now it had warmed up some and was sunny. So I grabbed my purse and started walking home. I had probably got about 2.5 km before a neighbour driving by recognized me and stopped and gave me a lift the rest of the way.

Total distance walked today (so far): 4. 5 km.

I hope they can fix the car this afternoon, or I might be walking to daycare and walking the kids home (4 km round trip). And I think that would be just a bit too much exercise for one day.

Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!

Well not really. It's more like, "Pre-written from Ottawa, it's Thursday morning!", but I've always wanted to say that. I may not be a guest host, but I have written a guest post.

I'm guest blogging today at Jen on the Edge while Jen and Pete move Jenworld Headquarters to its new digs. So hop on over there and see what I have to say about organization, salad dressing and home improvement.

Updates

I realize that most of you picture me lying about on the couch washing down bonbons with champagne while reading trashy romance novels. (Lance pulled Samantha to him, his nearness overpowering her...) Hah! Shows how much you know. 1. Sauvignon blanc goes way better with bonbons than champagne. 2. I'm more of a mystery fan. 3. I'm too freaking busy to lie on the couch.

Things are a little hectic around here. I've been busy moving into my new office (more on this below), dealing with a case of pink eye (Leah), a case of pharyngitis with inflamed tonsils and adenoids and accompanying fever (also Leah), an upcoming birthday party to plan (Leah again), the general housework/swimming lessons/homework/life, and I'm guest blogging over at Jen on the Edge tomorrow, so I've had to write something halfway decent.

All of this is to explain why I've been slacking somewhat in the blogging department around here. So, since I'm all but legally brain dead and incapable of writing something coherent, I thought I'd just update you all on a couple of things.

• I met with my director regarding my office. I finally got the whole story, and there was no malice involved, just really bad timing and, in government-speak, poor optics. We are undergoing an integration with another branch to create a new entity and managers are being moved over from another building. The director was only informed of the necessity to find this particular manager some office space after I had already vacated, and all the other managers of that level are along the hallway where my old office is. I got an acknowledgement that it was poorly handled, so now I can let it go and move into my new office (which isn't that bad) knowing that I stood up for myself.

• After debuting as number 358 on the library request list for Twilight, I finally got it. I have to say that I am seriously underwhelmed. I've reached the part where Edward rescues Bella from some would-be rapists and I'm not enjoying the story much at all. I don't think it's the vampires -- I like vampire stories just fine. I guess it's the fact that the protagonist and all her friends are teenagers, and I don't like watching TV shows or reading books about teenagers. Yawn. Bella is irritating, and I want to march her off to an ENT doctor to see if he could do something about her obvious inner ear disturbance that causes her extreme clumsiness and propensity for falling down. I'll probably perservere to see if it gets any better, but at this point, I gotta agree with XUP's thoughts on the book.

I hope to be back to posting on a semi-regular basis soon. At least until the new bonbon shipment comes in.