Sorry, Kermit

I have an above-ground pool. It was here when my ex and I bought the house. Of course, now I'm the one responsible for pool maintenance, opening and closing, etc. We live on the edge of a ridge, and the winter winds howling up the side always managed to blow the pool cover off, despite everything my ex tried to stop it from happening. There's a deck that partly surrounds the pool, and it's hard to get the cover down in the crack between the deck and pool.

So, the first year I had to deal with the pool myself I went out and bought a leaf net instead, and put it on the pool in the fall, after cleaning and super-chlorinating the pool. The wind can blow through it, so it remains anchored. It keeps out the large debris, but smaller things that show up in the spring after the ice has melted, like tree pollen, those catkin-like things from the birch and poplar trees, and copious amounts of bird crap, can get through the mesh. Add sunlight and heat, and they've brewed up one hell of an algae swamp in my pool.

I'm too ashamed to take a picture of the green water complete with mats of algae floating on top. With help from friends, I've got the cover off, and the pump out of the basement and hooked up. I've raised the water level in the pool and have spent more than three hours skimming the algae out of the pool. Today, I have to drop a sample of pool water off at the pool place, and they'll run a test on it and the computer will spit out a list of the steps I need to follow, and the chlorine I need to add, in order to turn my swamp into a swimming pool again. (Seriously, the way it is now, I don't know whether to add chlorine, or stock it with bass.)

And I want to get it up and running as soon as possible. Why, you ask? Could it be the fact that I don't have air conditioning in the house and the temperatures over the next few days will hit 40 with the humidex? Well, partly. Is it because the kids are practically foaming at the mouth to go swimming? Ummm, yeah, that too. But the real reason that I would like to convert my swamp back into a pool is the fact that my bedroom is at the back of the house, and I like to sleep with the window open. And the frog that has taken up residence on my deck and has been swimming in my pool has started calling out at night for a mate so that he can raise a family in my pool/ecosystem. And I can't sleep because he's so freakin' loud.

(Note: I will ensure that Loudmouth is not in the pool before I add any chemicals. He's a Gray Tree Frog (Hyla versicolor), and since he's nocturnal, he should be sleeping safely under the deck when I'm working on the pool. Just in case you were worried.)

Newton, Murphy and me

Newton's First Law of Motion: An object will stay at rest or continue at a constant velocity unless acted upon by an external unbalanced force.

Newton's Second Law of Motion: The net force on an object is equal to the mass of the object multiplied by its acceleration.

Newton's Third Law of Motion: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

****

Murphy's Law: Whatever can go wrong will go wrong (and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way).

****

Alison's Law of Differential Mass of Purse Contents: Objects that you need to find quickly, such as car keys, will sink to the bottom of your purse, while objects that you would not necessarily want anyone standing next to you to see, such as tampons, will float to the surface of the purse when you open it and often will jump out and land on the floor.

Alison's Law of Dark Laundry Entropy: When you take the time to sort out the darkest of the dark laundry, and use the proper dark laundry detergent so as to avoid fading, you will inevitably fail to remove a kleenex from a pocket of one of the items being washed.

Alison's Law of Guest-Affected Propane Consumption: When you invite guests over for a barbecued dinner, the propane will run out halfway through cooking dinner. That same propane tank would have had sufficient propane in it to finish dinner if it was only for family, even if the amount of food was the same. Corollary: if you go out and fill a replacement tank against such an eventuality, you won't need it. The current tank will contain enough propane to finish dinner.

What laws operate around your house?

A Star (Wars fan) is born

Most Friday nights chez Party of 3 are pretty laid back. After the long school/work week (especially now that 2 week-night soccer practices are thrown into the mix), Fridays are all about kicking back and relaxing. We usually head over to Carp Video right after I pick the girls up from daycare and the girls choose a movie each and then after dinner and a trip to the playground (weather permitting) we change into PJs and watch a movie and eat popcorn. It's how we unwind.

And since we do this nearly every Friday, we've pretty well watched all the movies in the children's section of the store. We have our favourites -- Rae especially likes to rent the same movies over and over -- but Leah has been looking for something different. She really likes the Harry Potter movies, though they tend to be too scary for Rae.

So when I saw the ads for the new Indiana Jones movie, I had a brainwave. Maybe it was time to introduce the girls to Raiders of the Lost Ark. They were very excited. I remember loving that movie. I am apparently brain damaged, as I evidently had forgotten almost everything that went on in this movie -- the bloody impaled native guide, the poisoned monkey, the dessicated mummy corpses, the melting face/drying out and crumbling to dust face/exploding head during the finale, and all that other good gory stuff. Rae fell asleep before Indy reached the first jungle temple, which was probably a good thing. Leah....well, if Leah was an 8-year-old boy instead of an 8-year-old girl, she probably would have loved the movie. As it was, she had her eyes hidden for most of it. I kept offering to turn it off, but she'd say "No Mom, I want to watch." And by 'watch' she meant bury her head in the pillow she had balanced on her drawn-up knees while plugging her ears. Sigh. So Saturday, it went back to the video store.

I had another brainwave. Star Wars! Yeah, I bet she'd love that. And she did. I hadn't seen the movie in years, and I had forgotten how much I loved it too. But it was tucked away in the synapses. I started quoting dialogue along with the characters, "The Jundland wastes are not to be travelled lightly", "You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon? Should I have? It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.", "I have a bad feeling about this.", "This is some rescue. When you came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?". It was like seeing old friends again. And Leah's hooked. She's watched it three times already and is full of questions like "If Obi-wan is dead, how can Luke hear his voice?", "Why did Obi-wan let Darth Vader kill him?". She's impatient for next Friday, and The Empire Strikes Back.

Leah is just captivated by Obi-wan. Rae is more of a Luke Skywalker fan. Neither of them can quite understand their mother's preference for Han Solo.

(Oh, but you will, girls, you will. Someday.)

Evil ninja assassin cat

Good morning, Large One. Your calves look especially juicy sticking out of your bath robe this morning. I may look as though I'm sitting here grooming myself, but really I am only counting the seconds and calculating the trajectory before I launch myself at you, pin you around the knee with my front paws and sink my fangs into the sweet, sweet flesh of your leg. Iams kitten food cannot begin to compare with the taste of fresh-caught limb. (But two words, Large One: razor. blade. I don't know whether to bite your leg or groom it. Seriously.)

Yes, Large One, now that you have finished subjecting yourself to the vile and unspeakable water spray, go and get Loud One and One Whose Hair I Like to Chew up from their nests. I need more prey.

I am the the mighty hunter. I am Death made flesh. I stalk my victims through this house and no-one is safe from my wrath. The small toy horses with the intoxicating hair do not please me with screams when I put my ears back and chase them, as your skin kittens do. My thirst for blood and destruction (and the Kim Possible action figure) shall be indulged.

Behold the flayed body of the oven mitt! Fear my anger, humans.

And get me a Pounce treat.

A tuna one.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress.

Morning. The usual chaos as we try to get ready for school and work. Leah is putting homework into her backpack. I am hunting in the fridge for yogurt for my lunch. Rachel is getting herself dressed.

Rae: Mom, I can't wear these panties, they're dirty!

Me: No they're not, I just got them out of the dryer.

Rae: But they've got Pooh on them. *collapses laughing*

Six things

A while back, Moo tagged me with the '6 things about me' meme. I've done something similar before, once or twice, but I'll see if I can think up 6 more things about me that you might find vaguely interesting. I'm not making any promises on the level of interestingness though.

As always, the rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

(I'm not going to tag anyone, this has been around a few times, but if you'd like to play, hey, knock yourself out and leave me a comment so I can go look at your answers.)

1. I'm a pretty lucky person. I mean beyond the 'I have my health, 2 beautiful daughters, a home, good job, wonderful family and friends' lucky (though I'm lucky in those respects too). Over a 3-year period, I won nearly $5000 worth of things from a local radio station by playing their contests and phoning in to win. The list: a Sens date night (a limo picked us up and took us to an Ottawa Senators (NHL) hockey game, with dinner beforehand in the upscale restaurant where the season-ticket holders eat, seats at the blue line only 3 rows from the ice, and a limo ride home. They even threw in $50 for a babysitter and a DVD movie for the kids to watch while we were out.) Then all the winners of the date nights -- there were ten -- were entered in a draw for a pair of really nice diamond earrings, and I won the draw. A couple of years later I won a power washer and tickets for the Rolling Stones concert when they came to town, with a pre-concert party/dinner with the other winners and some of the radio station DJs. Still no luck with lottery tickets though.

2. I'm a cat person rather than a dog person. Don't get me wrong, I like dogs and have even loved dogs in the past, but given a choice, I'll pick a cat every time. (See, this is what I mean about the level of interestingness.)

3. I'd rather read than watch TV or a movie. This is kind of weird, considering I'm an editor and read for a living -- you'd think the last thing I'd want to do when I got home was read, but that's what I do. I keep buying DVDs on sale, and VHS tapes from garage sales, to have on hand when there's nothing good on TV, and I still haven't gotten around to watching them. I found an old VHS copy of Foul Play, a Chevy Chase/Goldie Hawn movie I remember loving when I was a teenager, at a used book sale a while ago. I put it in my bedroom weeks ago, thinking I might like to snuggle in bed and watch it. I haven't yet, but I've read at least 8 novels during that time.

4. I was trapped in an elevator once. At the Canadian Museum of Nature in Ottawa. On a Sunday, when there are no technicians on site. In total there were 5 of us on the elevator: me with a toddler Leah in a stroller, and a friend with her youngest in a stroller, and her claustrophobic husband. It was not a fun 20 minutes or so. But at least none of us gave birth.

5. I've never seen the movie "Grease".

6. I bumped into Margaret Atwood once. I was living in Toronto and working downtown. One day I was heading into the bank near the corner of Yonge and College. I wasn't looking where I was going, I was rummaging in my purse for something, when I walked smack into a lady coming out of the bank. I stopped and apologized, and then went into the bank thinking, "I know her from somewhere." Yeah, from the author picture on the backs of several novels in my bookcase. I also saw David Suzuki in a pub on College St. a couple of weeks later. And once, when walking to a restaurant for lunch with friends from work, we passed the Delta Chelsea and saw a limo pull up and the Ramones got out. Toronto was fun.

So there you have it. I have no more random and/or interesting things to share. I will not be doing any more of these postings. You can thank me for this by sending chocolate.

Mother's Day weekend recap

I just finished reading about what XUP did on her Mother's Day weekend, and I shamelessly copied the idea was inspired to share my own weekend with you all.

It was a really great weekend. The antibiotics kicked in, and although I'm still coughing like a chain-smoking rhinoceros, I have most of my energy back. I declared a weekend moratorium on housework (except for the ongoing loading/unloading of the dishwasher to keep us in dishes) and the girls and I had fun. The weather was lovely - about 19 and sunny, though Sunday was really windy.

Saturday morning we walked to the first Carp Farmers' Market of the season. How we made it through the winter without bacon on a bun is truly incomprehensible. Once we had them in hand and were happily chomping away, we ran into lots of people from the village that we really haven't seen since November or so. Once the snow starts flying, about the most you see of the neighbours is a hand waving from a car window, and with last winter's snowbanks, you couldn't see many cars at all. Now that spring is here, we get to see everyone again. (I think it must have been like this in the olden days out on the prairies where the settlers ventured out from their farms to see who had died or had babies over the winter.) We also met, very unexpectedly, Pat and Gerry, close friends from Ottawa and sat and visited with them as well. We headed home with our supplies of butter tarts, citrus cookies, and pansies to plant in the garden, and Shell and Becca dropped by for tea (and butter tarts - a coincidence? Maybe.)

After lunch we went to Andrew Haydon Park and the girls ran wild on the play structures. We came home and barbecued dinner (steak and baked potato and red wine for Mom), and I still had enough energy to mow half the lawn.

On Sunday, I got the home-made cards and a lovely wooden box that Rae decorated for me at daycare. It had chocolates in it that she wanted to 'share' with me. Hmmmm, I kinda thought they were for me. I shared. Leah made peanut butter toast and juice for breakfast, having just learned to use the toaster oven. Rachel pronounced Leah's toast far superior to the toast I make and asked Leah if she would make her toast from now on. (I took the blow to my ego rather well, I think. If it means less work for me, I'm all for it.) We had decided on a Mother's Day picnic at the beach. Though it's too cold to swim yet, I thought that the girls could paddle in the water and build sand castles while I read a book. We packed up and headed to the beach (Rae insisted on wearing her bathing suit). When we arrived, we were very surprised. The beach had disappeared.

It was a small beach, width-wise, but a good 30 to 40 feet of sand stretched from the parking area out to the Ottawa River. Not anymore, or not right now -- the river is running so high (probably from the increased snowmelt from the record levels of snow we had) that the beach is under water.

Those trees underwater on the left of the photo above are about halfway between the upper edge of the beach and the water's edge. Or at least they were last summer.

I looked through some old pictures, but couldn't find any taken from the same spot. The one below was taken a couple of summers ago. I was at the water's edge taking a picture back towards the parking area. I was standing near the trees you can see to the left of Leah's head when I took the photos above. You can see the expanse of sand that's now under water.


We picnicked anyway, and the girls played in the thin strip of sand. Then we went home and I mowed the rest of the lawn while the girls made me a cake. All by themselves. It was beautiful -- chocolate, with fudge icing, decorated artistically and served on a pink and blue plate (you can click on the photo to enlarge it and appreciate the decorations even more).

Sick

When I was little, I kind of liked being sick, just a little bit. I liked when my mom would make up a bed for me on the sofa so that I could watch TV. I got to drink ginger ale (we never had pop in the house) and she'd make my favourite comfort food for me (tuna salad inside Pillsbury crescent rolls, hot from the oven.) I liked the feeling of being cared for, looked after, safe and warm and cozy.

Now I'm an adult, and the only one in charge of two other human beings....not so much. Being sick is awful. What started as what I thought were spring allergies soon revealed themselves as a cold, which then morphed into the worst case of bronchiitis I've had since Rae was born. And it's kicking my ass. The coughing is bad, but the bone-tiredness is the worst, I have zero energy. It's hard to explain to the girls that Mommy just isn't up to walking to the park, or that just getting to swim lessons is a major feat, and I don't have the energy to do anything afterwards except go home and go to bed. They want to help, bless their hearts -- Rae stands beside the couch I'm lying on and very seriously brushes the hair off my forehead and kisses me there, an echo of the many times I've done that to her fevered brow -- but they're still too little. They're the ones needing looking after.

It's frustrating to be home and yet not have the energy to catch up on the laundry, or mow the lawn, or even get on the computer. So I'm apologising for being a bit absent around here and on your blogs lately. It's not that I don't care. Hopefully, in a few days when the $200 worth of antibiotics and steroids kick in, I can get back to blogging and visiting your blogs. And maybe even tell about the near-death experience we had here at the house.

(I'm not too sick to tease, lol.)

From the weekend

Spring finally remembered eastern Ontario and we had a lovely week and weekend. Her memory is short-lived though, since I drove to work through snow flurries this morning. Figures. I took some pictures on Sunday in an attempt to stay awake -- I had been at a party Saturday night and had had a total of 2.5 hours of sleep.

You know, when I was 19 I could stay up drinking til 4:30, catch 2.5 hours sleep, and still be fresh as a daisy and do errands all day long and then party the next night too. How the times have changed. When I got home from my girlfriend's place Sunday morning, I really wanted to nap but instead I had to run some errands, rake my yard (cause it was yard waste pickup Monday) and the girls from next door came over to play with my girls until nearly 4 pm. I was sitting trying to read and nodding off while they were playing (because common sense and the Children's Aid Society both dictate supervision for children), but managed to stay most of the way awake. Well, at least I woke up when I was nailed in the head with a barbie during some kind of aerial doll warfare that broke out. I'm still really tired this morning two days later.

I am officially old.

Here's what my Sunday looked like:


This nest, tucked up under the roof overhang of the garage, was built last year by robins. They raised a brood of babies and moved out. Then two broods of mourning doves were raised in it. I left it there over the winter, and the doves moved back in this spring. Doves are larger than robins and the accommodations are cramped, but moving into an existing rental appears to be preferable to building from scratch. There are actually two babies in the nest, but you can only see one peeking out from under the mom. I guess I'm a landlord.


This may be a little-known fact, but deer don't like daffodils. They prefer tulips. I have had tulips. Also on their list of favourite foods ever are my cedar hedges, apparently. Deer may be cute, but as neighbours, they suck are not ideal.


How many girls can you fit in an IKEA castle/tent/playhouse? Answer: four.


Max looking out through the front window, wanting desperately to join the fun. Or eat the birds at the bird feeder. It's hard to tell which from the expression on his face, but the smart money's on eating the birds.

I'm so much cooler online, apparently*

A very good friend of mine told me something the other day, and I'd like to pass it on to you, 'cause I believe what she said to be true. No, I'm not channelling Trooper. Oh. Wait. I kind of am. But the important thing that she told me is this: email and merlot don't mix. (Friends don't let friends drink and email ex-husbands.) I'd like to extrapolate that for a moment and let you know that from first-hand experience, filling out online dating applications after a few drinks is not. a. very. good. idea.

Remember back when I first entertained the idea of online dating? Yeah, me too. Well Friday night after the girls were in bed, I decided to have a drink and play on the computer a bit. Check my Facebook, my mommy board, read some blogs...you know, the usual. Time passed and I had another drink. And another one. Round midnight, I decided that maybe I'd check out Plentyoffish.com. I pulled up the website, posted a pretty innocuous head and shoulders pic of me (in a coat and scarf) and started to fill out a profile. Rather honestly. Maybe too honestly (in vino veritas and all that). I was having a blast: Interests? Chocolate, Monty Python, politics, hockey, mystery novels, guys who have their own houses and friends and won't be in my face all the damn time, but who like to cuddle.... It was probably 1 a.m. when I was finished. Then I stumbled up to bed.

I woke up at 4 a.m. Suddenly wide awake. In a slight panic. Thinking: What Have I Done? Well, for one thing, I hadn't bothered to create an email address with my fake user name on Gmail or Yahoo or anything. Nooooo, I'd used my work email. Nice move, Alison. (If anyone's read Iain Banks' "Dead Air", what I felt was somewhat the same as what Ken felt when he realized on whose answering machine he'd left the long, boozy, sexy message.)

I got up right then, went down to the basement in my pajamas, fired up the computer and deleted my profile, 'cause I'm a big old chicken. And I don't want weird guys emailing me at work. But get this, in the 3 hours that I was shilling myself online, I got two bites.

One guy, "Tyler", who was 23 and "really into older women because he thought they were sooooo hott" [sic] and who also "adores and worships BBWs". Which I had to look up. Hmmm. Big Beautiful Women. OK, so I'm old *and* plus-sized. Thanks, Tyler.

The second was some heavily Christian guy who I think wanted to convert me. He wanted "a Christian lady to have Christian discourse with". Christian discourse?? I'm wondering if he meant Christian intercourse. (I guess that would be missionary position. Heh.) Thanks, but I'll pass.

Now some may say that the, ummm, quality of men surfing the dating sites between 1 and 4 a.m. might not be representative of the online dating community as a whole, but I think the whole thing just feels kind of icky. It's probably not for me. I think I'll try a single-parents' activity group first (Thanks, Nikki).

Or I could always just adopt a bunch more cats and start drinking sherry out of teacups. Yeah, that'd work.

*Apologies to Brad Paisley

Thanks for the memeries...

I saw this on my friend Becca's Facebook page, and decided to put it up while I take my time writing up a post about my short-lived foray into online dating this past weekend (stay tuned). Plus, I had a lot of fun with the movie quotes meme, so I thought a lyrics quiz would be amusing.

The Rules:

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 50 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing. (This seemed rather excessive, so I stopped at 30)
Step 3: Bold out the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If you like the game post your own

Here goes:

1. Bright cold silver moon, tonight alone in my room (Faber Drive - Tongue Tied)
   
2. And she was lying in the grass (Talking Heads - And She Was)
3. Play a little kiss and tell with poison pills (54-40 - Ocean Pearl)
4. As I'm staring through this fire, it's too late to make you mine (State of Shock - Money Honey)
   
5. Step right up and don't be shy (Tubes - She's a Beauty)
6. Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back (Tears for Fears - Everybody Wants to Rule the World)
   
7. Load up on guns and bring your friends (Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit)
   
8. You make me weep, I wanna die (Journey - Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin')
   
9. When you first left me I was wanting more (Lily Allen - Smile)
   
10. I used to be a rolling stone you know (Elton John - Philadelphia Freedom)
    
11. You can look at the menu but you just can’t eat (Howard Jones - No One is to Blame)
    
12. Midway hawkers calling “Try your luck with me” (Rush - Lakeside Park) [Dani, I'm surprised you didn't get this one.]
    
13. Don’t tell me I’m wrong cause I’ve been watching every move that you make (Blue Rodeo - Try)
    
14. Take your baby by the hand (Wang Chung - Dancehall Days)
    
15. So long, so long, so long he's been away (Tom Cochrane - The Boy Inside the Man)
    
16. Why you wanna tell me how to live my life (Bon Jovi - Have a Nice Day)
    
17. One, two, three take my hand and come with me (Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl)
    
18. Someday soon and I don’t know when (Blue Rodeo - Trust Yourself)
    
19. Your baby is a good cook, his baby has a cool look (David Wilcox - The Grind) Note, this is the Canadian blues/rock David Wilcox, not the American folk singer David Wilcox.
    
20. If you would just be sensible, you’d find me indispensible (Honeymoon Suite - Feel it Again)
    
21. I am the fountain of affection (Great Big Sea - When I'm Up (I Can't Get Down))
    
22. I never knew, I never knew that everything was falling through (The Fray - Over My Head (Cable Car))
    
23. I was happy in my harbour when you cut me loose (KT Tunstall - Silent Sea)
    
24. You must understand though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react (Tina Turner - What's Love Got to Do With it)
    
25. Working like a dog for the boss man (Aerosmith - Love in an Elevator)
    
26. A wild ride over stony ground (Def Leppard - Animal)
    
27. Won’t you come see about me (Simple Minds, Don't You Forget About Me)
    
28. Give me that opener, pass me that beer (Teenage Head, Let's Shake)
    
29. Early in the morning and I can’t sleep (Rod Stewart, Infatuation)
    
30. Rumour spreading round in that Texas town (ZZ Top, La Grange)
    

Thanks for playing, everyone!

If only dating was like this in real life

Think of the time you'd save.

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.

Overheard at the breakfast table

Rae: Why do you always sit with Flynn on the school bus?

Leah: Because I like Flynn.

Rae: Is he your *boyfriend*?

Leah: No. I like him, but I don't *like him* like him.

Rae: Yeah, you do.

Leah (through gritted teeth): No. I. don't.

Rae (singing): Leah and Flynn, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes . . . salmon?

Leah: . . .

Rachel: I forget the rest.

Leah: Just eat your waffles.

Epiphany

Did you know that you can play notes on a harmonica when you breathe in as well as when you blow out?

Did you know that this means that you can play a harmonica non-stop for more than an hour because the breathing thing is all taken care of?

Did you know that you can clamp the harmonica between your teeth, leaving your hands free to play percussion on various surfaces, including the cat?

Rachel didn't. Until this weekend.

I fear for my grandchildren

Yesterday afternoon the girls resurrected a game that they invented and used to play months ago. It involves packing as many dolls and stuffed animals as possible in Rae's doll stroller (reined in by the strap) and running, pushing the stroller at top speed through the house. Then they suddenly put on the brakes and stop so that the strap unhitches and the 'babies' go flying through the air, bouncing off walls and carpets. Uproarious laughter commences.

The name of the game? Super Bad Mommies.

Am I doing a bang-up job with this parenting gig, or what?

Is it too much to ask...

...that a grocery store advertising whole chickens on sale in a flyer that goes into effect on Friday and lasts til the following Thursday actually has chickens in stock when I make a special trip on Sunday evening with two cranky kids in tow? (Yeah, March Rd. Loeb, I'm talkin' to you.)

A handwritten sign taped to the cooler display saying "Sorry, we are temporarily out of the advertised chickens" is not good enough. If you don't have a large enough supply to last the week, don't advertise. Now I'm not naive enough to not realize...wait.... yeah, I said that right, but let me rephrase: I'm not too stupid to understand the loss-leader concept, but I don't like that grocery chain, and that store in particular (really, what serious grocery store doesn't carry Bisquick?), so if they're out of the special, I'm not going to say, "Oh well, no chickens, but I'll buy my groceries here anyway". Hell no. I'm going to swear under my breath and drag my two tired and hungry kids home and make do with what's in the house until the next day when I can get to Brown's Independent or a Loblaws, where the produce is fresher, they don't run out of advertised specials, and they sell frickin' Bisquick.

Seriously.

Oh, and by the way, for some reason, TypePad and Wordpress have decided that I am SPAM, as have a couple of other domains. Either my email address or domain name is pissing them off somehow and I've been spamlisted. So, if I hang out at your blog and usually comment on your posts, and I've been strangely silent lately, I haven't a) died, b) left town, c) got amnesia, d) sworn off computers forever, or e) become pissed off at you. Check your spam directory and you'll probably find a couple of comments from me.

Rachel = Joey

Where did Rachel learn air quotes? And when?

She has no idea how to use them (think Joey on Friends), but that isn't stopping her.

Last night, I was heating up some curry in the microwave while the girls were eating their dinner. When the timer went off, Rae looked over at me and said, "Mom, your "Indian food" is ready." Her head was cocked to the side and her fingers were like curled bunny ears each side of her head. I cracked up.

Later, she asked her sister, who was already in the bath, if the water was too "hot".

I guess I need to be ready when she tells me that something is a moo point.

Note: maybe yesterday's post was a little TMI. I really don't want you all to think that we live in vermin-infested squalor. I just couldn't resist playing around with the movie poster and the mice/lice rhyme. I'm happy to report that the house is now free of mice and lice, and as of 2:40 p.m. Max was recovering well from what Rae would undoubtedly call his "surgery".

Horror movie

Remember, a while back, when I compared my life to a movie? Well, it's happening again. The Universe is out to get me. My life is moving into movie territory again. Horror movie territory.

Along with Max bringing rodents to dinner, Rachel brought a few uninvited 'guests' home from school with her last week. I've been dealing with the laundry aftermath of the infestation for the last few days.

Call Ben Kingsley. We're doing a remake:

An award and a meme

Josie, at No Internal Editor, gave me this award the other day, and I'm downright honoured.

Josie also makes my day when I read her blog. She and I have so much in common -- single parenthood, twisted sense of humour, hockey, beer, geographic nearness. We shall meet someday, and the world may never be the same afterwards. So, thank you, Josie.

The rules:

1. Write a post with links to five blogs that make your day.
2. Acknowledge the post of the award giver.
3. Display the “You Make My Day Award” logo.
4. Tell the award winners that they have won by commenting on their blogs or emailing them the news.

This is going to be difficult. See those blogs in my blogroll? Every one of them makes my day. Each and every one. Each and every day. So I'm going to put names from the blogroll in a hat and pick 5 and explain why they make my day.

Life's Little Adventures. I've 'known' Alissa online now for at least five years now, maybe more, and it never ceases to amaze me how you can be friends, good friends, with someone you've never met. Alissa is shares her life with her boys and her husband Andy on her blog. The good, the bad, and the funny. And the photos... the photos are breathtaking and inspiring and endearing and enlightening and sometimes cute. Her pictures and prose make my day.

Pardon the Egg Salad. A relatively new read for me. Velocibadgergirl cracks me up with her stories of her new house and her pictures of lolkitters. I think I still have a small piece of toast in my lung somewhere that I aspirated while reading comments about crickets that contained the phrase "The Dread Cricket Roberts has come for your sooouuuuls!"

Hello World, It's Me. I love checking in with Nadine and her beautiful kids the Monkey (toddler) and Roo (just a couple of months old). Nadine lives in the Netherlands and makes me laugh with her stories of doctors who look like Hugh Grant and taking pictures of toys in compromising positions (I liked her before, but fell in love with her when she took a picture titled 'Brokeback Duplo').

Breadcrumbs in the Butter. I am in awe of Chantal. She has four kids, a job, a catering business and still manages to play soccer and run and ogle men at the gym. Her children are great, and often it's things they've said that make my day. Like Meghan saying that she knows it's spring because, "The truck smells like poo, and there are dead animals on the road again!"

Daysgoby. Jessica's wry humour, stories about Rosey and Cass, and wonderful photos are why I check in there daily. She brings a bit of Nova Scotia into my day.

Not content with just showering me with accolades, Josie also tagged me with a meme. The Six Words meme.

Here are the rules:

1) Write your own six word memoir
2) Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post, and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere
4) Tag at least five more blogs with links
5) Don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

OK, here goes:

Learning life's what you make it.

I tag the following lovely bloggers: Dani, Briana, Holly, Meanie, and Stacy .