Going for it in Sochi

Well the Olympics are here again (yay!) and we are off to a good start, what with sisters Justine and Chloe Dufour-Lapointe winning gold and silver in moguls, and Charles Hamelin earning gold in 1500 metre short-track speed skating.

Not to mention Canadian feel-good stories like the speed skater who gave up his spot in the finals to a team-mate, who went on to win silver; and the cross-country coach who gave a ski to a Russian competitor who had broken his. 

At noon, I'll be at a memorial lunch for my friend Linda, who passed away during the last winter Olympics, and won't be checking in on our boys as they meet Norway in men's hockey, but my heart will be with them.  

This post, from the last Olympics in Vancouver, kind of sums up our feelings towards the Olympics and Olympic hockey in particular.

GO TEAM CANADA!

I'm not sure, I think they might be cheering for Slovakia
(originally posted February 21, 2010)

I wrote this blog last week, long before anyone knew that Canada's men's hockey team would be playing Slovakia in the semifinals. I was just looking for a country whose national colours are sort of similar to Canada's. You know, for comic effect. No one at our house is going to be cheering for Slovakia tonight. Really.

We've been watching a lot of Olympics at chez Party of 3.


It's been amazing. While we are cheering for Canada, of course, we have been blown away by the awe-inspiring performances of the Americans, the Swiss, the Germans, the Norwegians, and the Koreans, to name but a few.

It has been a dream come true to watch the best athletes from all over the world compete and win gold here in Canada.


But fair warning: when it comes to hockey, the women's and the men's, let us make one thing perfectly clear -- it's our game.

GO, CANADA, GO!!!

I'm not dead yet

Though you might be forgiven for thinking so, seeing as I haven't blogged since early November.  I've been totally bereft of blog ideas a bit busy, what with Christmas coming and our family's upcoming trip to Nice. 

How busy, you ask?  Well, I have one of those perpetual calendars with the dates on little wooden tiles.  Sort of like these, except nicer.



Three days ago, I finally changed it from 'August' to 'December'. 

Yeah, that busy.

In my own defence, I've also finished a few knitting projects. And shopped for a new car. And worked/commuted/shopped/cooked/drove kids places/etc.  Occasionally, I've slept.

But I need to get back on the horse so that my blogging ability doesn't leave me entirely.  And so, dear reader, here is a bunch of random stuff rattling around in my head.  With pictures.

From the 'NHL lockout' files 

I had the following Facebook exchange with my friend Josie on my timeline:

Josie: Just an FYI, I am no longer referring to Bettman as "that troll" but instead as Gollum.

Alison: I guess that money is 'his precioussssss'. Stupid troll.

Josie: Watch a clip of Gollum and then watch Bettman last week during his press conference after talks broke down. Only difference is a suit and a wig.

And you know, I checked out some pictures, and she's right. So I made this for her:

From the 'You shouldn't have to get wrinkles and pimples at the same time.  It's just not fair.' files

I have a giant pimple on my forehead, right where I would have a lightning-shaped scar if I were Harry Potter.

It seems impervious to all my attempts to get rid of it -- creams, ointments, facial washes, even Avada Kedavra.

I am going to call it "The Zit Who Lived."

From the 'Introducing my children to popular culture/They're getting so much older' files

  

The past few nights, we’ve been piling onto my bed and watching Roger Moore in ‘Live and Let Die’ on DVD. Along with the Daniel Craig movies, I got a DVD with three of Moore's James Bond movies on it for my birthday.

The kids were interested in watching a James Bond movie, and this one, released in 1973 at the height of the Blaxploitation movie genre, has sparked some interesting conversations about racism, as parts of it are set in Harlem and southern Louisiana. The implied sex scenes are pretty tame, and both girls seem to be enjoying watching, though we keep pausing it so that I can answer questions. We’ve been watching about 45 minutes per night.

Part of the plot of this movie, if you’ve not seen it, is that Jane Seymour plays Solitaire, a clairvoyant who can reliably read the future in Tarot cards. She has this power only so long as she remains a virgin. This fact is discussed quite obliquely, and Rae did not pick up on it. Apparently Leah did. James tricks Solitaire with a Tarot deck stacked with ‘The Lovers’ cards and makes quick work of her powers. Offscreen, of course.

So, last night, we were watching the last 45 minutes of the movie, and Rae was full of questions. Leah was patiently answering them:

Rae:“Why is James throwing the chicken on the ground?”
Leah:“So that the alligators will come out of the pond and make a diversion”

Rae:“What is James doing?”
Leah:“He’s setting the drug lab on fire”

Rae:“Why is James’s boat slowing down?”
Leah:“Because when he was escaping, the guy with the hook shot at him and hit the outboard and it’s leaking gas.”

This went on for a while. And then came the question I was afraid would crop up.

Rae:“Why did being James’s girlfriend make Solitare not able to read the future anymore?”

Leah looked at me and said, “Your turn.”

From the "Things in your kitchen that can hurt you' files

• The pointy end of the meat thermometer is quite ouchy when encountered unexpectedly in the sudsy dish-water by being jammed under your thumbnail.
• Bricks of butter are unexpectedly heavy when they are cold and solid and have been dropped on your foot.
• Picking up the skittish cat when he's having a bite to eat at his dish and holding him like a baby in order to smooch him on the head is potentially dangerous in itself.  Doing so at the same time your daughter drops a metal saucepan loudly onto the tile floor? Cue the band-aids and Neosporin.

Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies. And photoshop pictures of Daniel Craig for you.

Today is my birthday. 

It's been amazing so far.  I've been taken out to lunch, treated to cake and muffins, and had lots and lots of phone calls, emails, and Facebook and Twitter messages.  I am very lucky to have so many friends.  Especially ones who know me so well.  Friends who know what I like. What I love. And whom I'd jump in a second if I ever got the chance.

(I should probably clarify here that I mean that I am lucky to have friends who know whom I'd like to jump if given the chance, and *not* that I would like to jump my friends, attractive though they all are.)

The kind that would help me move bodies. And they are all very, very funny women.

Julie sent me this:

(I think the package is being hand-delivered, lol)

And JenB, JenS and Josie came up with following.  (Kudos to JenB on the stellar use of Microsoft Paint.)  It's my perfect birthday, and it's too perfect not to share. 


SADLY, BLOGGER HAS EATEN THE VERY FUNNY DOCTORED PICTURES THAT JEN PUT IN THE BLOG.  I WILL DO A 'CLOSE CAPTIONING' FOR YOU IN RED.


Oh Alison, it's your birthday again. Have you been a good girl this year? Yes, of course you have. In honor of your big day, we got you season tickets to see your guys in action:

A PICTURE OF AN EMPTY SCOTIABANK PLACE, WHERE THE OTTAWA SENATORS PLAY, YOU KNOW, WHEN THE LEAGUE ISN'T EMBROILED IN A STUPID LOCKOUT DUE TO STUPID OWNERS AND STUPID GARY BETTMAN.

Oh.

We tried to negotiate with the NHL, but they wouldn't listen to Wife Logic. Voodoo didn't work either. We're really sorry. Here's some poutine to make it all better:

A PICTURE OF DELICIOUS, DELICIOUS POUTINE. *DROOL*

And, we have an even better gift planned. Pack your bags, because we're sending you here:

A PICTURE OF THE PROMENADE DES ANGLAIS, IN NICE, ON THE FRENCH RIVIERA.

Want to know where you'll be staying?

A PICTURE OF A YACHT MOORED IN THE HARBOUR IN NICE.

And who will you be spending time with?

A PICTURE OF DANIEL CRAIG, TAKEN FROM A STILL FROM 'QUATUM OF SOLACE' AND PASTED (VERY PROFESSIONALLY) INTO A STREET SCENE FROM NICE.  HE IS CARRYING ROSES AND CHAMPAGNE AND SPRINTING TOWARDS THE CAMERA.

He's clearly in a hurry to see you.

We packed your bags for you and you have a suitcase full of fabulous clothes, shoes, and bikinis. Naturally, everything fits perfectly, is in your favorite colours, and makes you feel terrific.

We didn't schedule a lot for your birthday trip -- just lots of beach time and some tasty snacks.

A PICTURE OF WHAT APPEARS TO BE ME, LYING ON A BEACH KISSING DANIEL CRAIG.  IF ONLY.......

We think you're going to have a great trip!

A PICTURE OF ME WITH THE CITY OF NICE IN THE BACKGROUND, AND DANIEL PHOTOSHOPPED IN BESIDE ME.  I HAVE THE BEST FRIENDS.



Happy birthday Alison!

xo, Jen, Jen, and Josie

Things Canadians can do on Saturday nights during the NHL lockout

1. Deface pictures of Gary Bettman.
2. Not deface pictures of Donald Fehr.

(And if you think I'm being unfair blaming Bettman and the owners for the lockout, just remember that the owners caused the cancellation of the 2004-05 season to create this system (hard salary cap tied to league revenue) that they now say they can’t do business under. Bitch, please.)

3. Rent Bon Cop, Bad Cop and enjoy the zany, bilingual, hockey-themed, Lethal Weapon homage. 

Especially the scene where the cops kidnap the head of the hockey league, Harry Buttman (Get it? Buttman? Heh.), and stuff him in a hockey bag.

4. Go to the clearance section at Michael's or Wal-mart, buy the loudest yarn you can get, and start crocheting Don Cherry a new suit.

5. Debate the following: Whose mullet was more egregious -- Wayne Gretzky's or Jaromir Jagr's?

6. Drink beer and weep quietly.

Please feel free to suggest other possible Saturday night pursuits in the Comments section. 

Thank you.

I am a marketing GENIUS!

So, garden gnomes are hot right now. You know, these guys that you place strategically around your yard and gardens:

Their popularity probably has a lot to do with this movie:

Or maybe with the Travelocity gnome:

Personally, I love garden gnomes. I've liked them since 1997, when I saw the movie The Full Monty.

I like them so much that I made this gnome.  With my rudimentary mad knitting skillz:

I also made this gnome.  With my mad gestational skillz: (I made the hat too.  With my mad.... hatational skillz):

And then it hit me: niche markets!  For gnomes!

There already are garden gnomes for zombie fans:  

And garden gnomes for hockey fans:  

I can totally see the next logical niche-market step.  Are you ready for this?  

It's CLASSIC!

Garden gnomes for Toronto Maple Leafs fans:

Because seriously, that team has been the walking (or maybe skating) dead for YEARS.    I tell ya, they'll just sell themselves. 

But that's not all.   How about personalized garden gnomes?

Garden gnomes for Jane Austen fans:

Or, garden gnomes for the 6 to 16-year-old female demographic:

Or, (my personal fave) garden gnomes for the discerning over-30 female demographic (these might be hard to keep in stock):

(You might want to enlarge this one.  Trust me.)

Oh, I haven't forgotten the 9 to 109-year-old male demographic.  For them there's the Scarlett Johansson garden gnomes: 

I just have to check if Madonna has trademarked the cone boobs.

And start looking for venture capital.  Lots and lots of venture capital. :)

I'm not sure, I think they might be cheering for Slovakia

I wrote this blog last week, long before anyone knew that Canada's men's hockey team would be playing Slovakia in the semifinals. I was just looking for a country whose national colours are sort of similar to Canada's. You know, for comic effect. No one at our house is going to be cheering for Slovakia tonight. Really.

We've been watching a lot of Olympics at chez Party of 3.


It's been amazing. While we are cheering for Canada, of course, we have been blown away by the awe-inspiring performances of the Americans, the Swiss, the Germans, the Norwegians, and the Koreans, to name but a few.

It has been a dream come true to watch the best athletes from all over the world compete and win gold here in Canada.


But fair warning: when it comes to hockey, the women's and the men's, let us make one thing perfectly clear -- it's our game.

GO, CANADA, GO!!!

It's funny because it's true

OK, last hockey post for a while, I promise. Soon I'll be back to regaling you with the antics of my spawn. But first this. (It's funny even if you're not a hockey fan, and it's only 30 seconds long, so watch it, dammit.)



You do realize, Josie and Guider, that you drove me to it.

(I love Rick Mercer.)

*update: I've been told that this clip can't be viewed by American and British IP addresses. The clip also resides here, but I don't have an American IP address to see if it works.

Guilty secret

Every closet has its skeleton.

Every past has its dark parts.

Mine is no different.

Imagine if you will, a young impressionable woman moving to Toronto for her first post-university job. Leaving the sheltering arms of her family and moving to the struggling morass of humanity known as Hogtown. New friends, new environs, new ideas -- not all of them good. And, as sometimes happens, she fell in with bad company. She was led astray. Led down a dark and dangerous path into a subculture so dark and twisted, so egregiously wrong, that even now she doesn't like to think about those years she spent in its dark thrall.

But she struggled hard, renounced the darkness and moved away, into the light. It's been 12 years she's been free now, but still she keeps this as a warning, to remind herself of what she used to be:


That's right. A Leafs fan.

Oh, the humanity.

Sadness in O-Town

Well, that's it. The Ottawa Senators were eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs last night. Swept, actually, by Crosby, Malkin, and the rest of the Pens. Four straight games. Sweet revenge for Pittsburgh after last season's playoffs, but for us Ottawa fans, it sucks majorly.

This time last year, we were just revving up. The Sens Army, ready to bring home the Cup. It was a joy to still have hometown hockey deep into springtime -- I actually watched one of the last games last year out on the deck in my bathing suit on a 13" TV swiped from my daughter's bedroom with rabbit ears and an extension cord. It was wonderful.

After posting the best opening to a season EVER, something happened, and the team floundered. I can't explain what happened, but the self-destruction was sad to watch. They seemed to have everything going for them and then it all fell apart. John Buccigross of ESPN hit the nail on the head when he said that if Britney Spears was a hockey team, she'd be the Sens.

Making this sad situation even sadder, is the fact that in all likelihood, Wade Redden has played his last game as an Ottawa Senator, since his contract is up this summer. The second-longest-serving Senator, after Daniel Alfredsson, he's been a backbone of the team for 11 seasons. He's a team player, assistant captain, great defenceman, and a man who gives generously of his time and money for charitable causes in Ottawa. The son of a friend of mine has had the opportunity to benefit from one of these causes. Wade's World, a private box in Scotiabank Place, is filled with kids from CHEO (Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) for every home game courtesy of Wade.

He's by far my favourite player, and in Derfwad Manor parlance, my secret boyfriend. (Here I quote the lady of the Manor: "Mrs. G. says secret boyfriend because while her love and esteem for these men is as rich and delicious as the mocha filling of an exquisite truffle, they have no idea that Mrs. G. exists." See? Secret boyfriend. What a concept.) In fact, I think that it's only the fact that Wade is a Canadian sports figure most of a continent away from Mrs. G. that has kept him from her purview and prevented her from drafting him into her stable of secret boyfriends to while away the hours with Johnny Depp, Viggo Mortensen, George Clooney, et al. (Hands off this one, Mrs. G. He's mine.) I mean, just look.



He's the complete package. I do realize that the fourteen-year difference in our ages means that this crush puts me uncomfortably into cougar territory. I don't care. Secret boyfriends are OK with that.

The Senators will miss him. Ottawa will miss him. I will miss him. But maybe a fresh start with a new team will be a good thing for his career.

And though the car flag and my red teeshirt are being retired for the summer, they'll be back again in October. And so will the Senators. There's always next season.