MERRY CHRISTMAS ... TO YOU!

Talking to yourself?

I remember a commercial years back where a gorgeous brunette is sitting at a restaurant table, with her head lightly resting on one hand. She is saying things like "Would you like to come over tonight?", "How about 7?", "It would just be us." and words to that effect. The (slightly nerdy) guy at the next table thinks she is talking to him. Of course, the point of the commercial was how small cell phones are becoming.

Since then, they have become even smaller. And with "hands free" headsets, etc, it can be hard to know who a person is talking to. It's become very common place to see someone walking down an aisle, talking and waving both hands to emphasis their point. Or marching down the street doing the same. So much so that it really doesn't occur to me to suspect anything unusual. (Except a possible lack of manners. Which may not be entirely unusual either.)

So imagine the shock when a fairly nicely dressed woman was carrying on a conversation in front of me while shopping the other day, and I realized SHE HAD NO PHONE.

[cue creepy music]

Christmas is coming, eh?

It's the bizarrest thing. We just finished Thanksgiving in America yesterday and as I was talking on the phone with a friend this morning, I kept hearing Canadian coming out of my mouth!

I've lived here long enough that I felt pretty confident that many of the "Canadianisms" I've lived with had pretty much receded into the background. I don't tack on too many "ehs", and I think my "outs" and "abouts" are changing shape to a more local pattern. I'm teased about "bits" but I've hung onto that one deliberately and I still spell "cheques" with a "q" just because I like it better. Looks classier or something.

I mean, really, doesn't it sound better to say the "cheque" is in the mail rather than the "check" is in the mail? Or maybe that's just the Canadian reaction I have that links "checks" with slamming into rink boards.

Anyway, as I was saying, I have been noticing that fewer people are looking at me with that curious look that invariable ends with "Where exactly are you from?" Not that I sound particularly American (except to that one dear man in the senior's home in Saskatoon) but I think of it as sounding rather more generic. Like the Midwestern accent they reportedly try to teach to Indian people working for HP customer support.

The challenge is - I now HEAR a Canadian accent. Not just the distinct tones of the eastern "a" vowel, but the nuances that mark one as distinctly north-of-the-49th. And I HEARD it coming out of my mouth!!

I'm not sure whether to consider it nostalgic or alarming. But I'm looking forward to Christmas and to calls from family and friends that sound like home. And with Thanksgiving out of the way, I can be vocal about looking forward to it, too.

So Merry Christmas, eh? And here's a taste of Canadian for you:



This cracks me up!

Figures of speech

It's sniffle time of year again and I happened to sneeze as we were driving somewhere the other day. Aside: FYI, I am not, nor have I ever been, a dainty sneezer. Try as I might, I still worry about closed windows overpressurizing when I feel a sneeze coming on. It would seem it is physically impossible to re-learn to sneeze. Sort of like keeping your eyes open when you sneeze. Can't be done. Unless you know something I don't know... Anyways, this sneeze was a particularly enthusiastic blast and without much thought I said, "Excuse me. Almost lost my eyeballs on that one."

After a moment of silence, a small voice came from the backseat.

"Is that a figure of speech?"

De-stuffing

I've undertaken the massive project of de-stuffing my house. Partly the need arose because we've lived in this house BY FAR longer than we've ever lived in one location before. I didn't realize that moving had become a way to clean my closets up until now.

Partly, the need arose through the fact that I've been helping a friend get ready to move for the last three months. She has a lot of STUFF. Her STUFF is much higher quality that my STUFF but it still left me with the nasty feeling that this was going to be my life in 30 years if I didn't do something about it NOW.

So while SG was out of town I began by emptying our walk in closet. And slept in the studio for 3 nights.

I discovered something that I'd know for awhile but had managed to fairly successfully repress. I'm a packrat. Don't know why but do know I can't deny it any longer.

Or maybe I do know why. It defies common sense to say that I need 1 cup hook (for instance) so I buy a package of 6. I use one and leave 5 stashed in a drawer. After two years, I throw out/donate/pawn-off-on-unsuspecting-friends the 5 hooks. Then, one week after getting rid of them, I need 1. So I buy a package of 6. See how this goes?

So now I'm looking at 2 Christmas ornaments, a piece of blue plastic that broke off a toy train that I'm pretty sure we got rid of but hate to throw it out until I'm POSITIVE we got rid of it, a wooden star that came off the end of a wall hanging rod that served as a fairy wand when the star I'm holding came off but is still in the house somewhere, an odd sock (I've a basket for those somewhere) and a Ziploc bag of random buttons.

And I've only gone through one box so far.

Maybe I just need to move ...

Taylor The Latte Boy

I was reminded of this song at a talent show tonight and was happy for the reminder. Hope it makes you smile too.

Funny signs

Long time ago, I posted a sign that caught my attention. Somebody must have taken it as a challenge because the funny, quirky and downright odd signs started appearing everywhere we traveled. So rather than just sit giggling quietly to myself, here's a few to share:

(Kimberley, BC)

(One of a series of Manitoba safety signs)

(Saskatoon, SK - read carefully...)

(Kimberley, BC again - The name says it all, don't you think? I still have no idea what 'The Gilded Goat' is/does/sells...)

(Columbia, MO - there's a reason this actually makes sense, I just can remember it.)

(Kenora, ON)

(Brain the size of a walnut, eh?)

(Colorado Springs, CO - nice welcoming sign that was posted at the Garden of the Gods - right beside some advice on how to avoid being hit by lightening.)

(Hays, KS)


(Erie, PA - On the other side of this store is a bright yellow Jelly Belly billboard with a reader board directly underneath that said "Machetes, knives, swords, ...)

And one of my personal favorites...

(Hayes, KY)

This stuff just writes itself some days!

A shout out for Dads!

I know it's not Father's Day but there's a hundred and one reasons to give dads a shout out whenever. There is nothing cooler, more endearing, and (dare I say) sexier than a great dad. (Feel the need to insert something here about "just not your own dad - eeeewww!" but will hope common sense inserts that automatically for you.)

Here's a couple of my all-time favorite dad vids - so perfect!!





Keep up the good work, dads!!

I missed Blissed

I already mentioned that we recently finished a vacation odyssey. It was a fabulous trip (fab, fab, fab) - in total we covered 6 provinces and 15 states. 7500 miles of driving. Lots of friends and family. Lots of strangers. Long time on the road but also not long enough.

In looking back, there's one disappointment though.

I missed Blissed.


They were on the road and we had a (granted slim) chance to hook up with them somewhere in northern Pennsylvania. But time and tide and all that stuff meant we missed them by about 40 feet. Or three hours, depending on how you look at it. It was late, they were trying to get home, yada, yada ...

A few people might be surprised to hear that this is a group I would be willing to meet in a dark parking lot. Even a dark alley. But it still didn't work out.

And now I find out they're launching a new CD soon. MAN!!

So here's a sneak peak at the cover. Not autographed or anything. But still...


Keep an eye out. They may be driving past your place in the dark, too.

These are my favorite (Canadian) things

We've just returned from a vacation that covered more of Canada that usual. It was an odyssey. The funnest part was walking into a store and saying "Oh, yeah!!!" when something that we haven't seen in awhile was on the shelf.

So we've compiled a short list of some of our favorite Canadian things. (I know, some are available across various borders but not where I live.)

What tops the list?

Coffee Crisp (It's really the only way I do coffee.)

Lynch's Honey Mustard Sauce

Bird Custard Powder

Old Dutch Ketchup chips (and Creamy Dill, too - thanks, Julie, for the introduction)

Aero Bar (not so much the Bubbles, though)

Iced tea (real iced tea, not just tea that has been iced!) - particular favorite: No Name California Blend iced tea mix. The irony is almost as delicious as the iced tea.

SHREDDIES!! (The diamond thing? Really! Don't need it.)

Boston Pizza (only the Canadian ones, though. The US ones did something nasty with their menu. And the service typically stinks.)

Nanaimo squares

Creamed honey - preferably from Podolski Honey Farm (it's so good even customs' officials don't let it through)

Ozonol (the best thing for a red tissue-buffed nose EVER)

Matrimonial cake

Barq's Red Cream Soda


There's a few I've probably forgotten but if you are ever not sure what to put in my Christmas package or have a little more room in your suitcase, maybe put this list on the fridge.

I'm just saying...

Hotel showers & other strange weather

I've been doing some traveling lately. This year has had more time on the road than usual, in fact. And it has confirmed a suspicion of mine:

Hotel showers are like weather systems.

It's like this:

You can pretty much be certain that in most hotels in North America there will be a shower in the bathroom. (Occasionally, it's beyond the bathroom but that's a statistical rarity.) Likewise, most places in North America have weather.

People always try to predict the weather. "Red sky at night, sailor's delight" and that sort of thing. Some people even get paid to predict the weather: "Tonight's forecast is sunny with scattered lightening and big gloomy clouds." (This type of weather is perfectly possible in Kentucky, by the way.) Paid or not, there is pretty much an equal rate of success.

I've learned that some hotels will also predict their shower's capacity. Holiday Inn Express, for example, appear to have invested in some heavy duty showerheads that prompted an entire line of postcards. (Photo to come after I've dried my hands off. - (later) okay, that's it up in the corner...) Others promise downpours in the morning but the best you get is a heavy mist. Mist in the weather makes my hair curl. Mist as the shower makes my toes curl.

Some hotels fool you with those "space-adding" curtain rods but an actual curtain that leaves you feeling like you're fighting a ghost in a lo-budget remake of "Psycho" as it clings to your legs. Others use an exhaust fan that threatens to suck the curtain right off the shower bar.

And some wise guys, thinking a fan is too big an expense or that ventilation is a waste of time, put in heat lamps - you know the red bulbs that make you think a lizard was the last one to use the room? Or that the room doubles as a greenhouse for the local nursery when they can't dupe anyone into paying for it? I've never understood the logic of those bulbs. "Let's take a room that will get hot and steamy (depending on the capacity of the hotel's hot water tank and the tendency of the temperature to drop if a neighbor flushes the toilet) and add HEAT so it will let the air hold MORE moisture and turn that morning pick-me-up into a sauna instead!" And ironically, humid areas seem more likely to think this is a good idea. The chronic weather conditions of an area are, oddly enough, often reflected in the local restrooms of the area hotels.

So do I have a point? No. But unfortunately I am a slave to my morning routine. And if two teaspoons of shampoo and a bald pipe gushing out of the wall are all that's available to me, I'll have to pretend.

But don't expect to see me in any of my vacation pictures.

Two - for - one

I love a good sale. (LOVE a good sale.)

But reality says that if I don't need it, it doesn't matter how deep the discount it. (Right, honey?)

Like the ad I saw last week -

2 for 1!!
Just what Dad wants for Father's Day!!

What were they selling? Recliners. You know, the oversized chairs that lay back and (depending on your budget and your Dad) vibrate, play music, cool your canned drinks and drive you to the airport.

Does Dad really want TWO recliners? How would that work? One for each foot? And does everyone really have the floor space for TWO recliners for Dad?

I thought that was really the all-time silliest idea I'd seen spring from the current economy (not including any government "recovery" plans, of course) until I saw this:


This is an honest to goodness sign on a road out of my town.

Aren't cemeteries in a "sure thing" market? Like gasoline or groceries? "The only two things in life that are certain are death and taxes"? Somehow the idea of a cemetery site sale is oddly disturbing to me. And hysterically funny, too. Sort of like having the giggles at a funeral.

It's a great sale, though ... (what do you think, honey?)

Random observations to round out the week

More hairdressers than not wear their pants at least 1 1/2" too long. Is that advice they get at beauty school?

If a tree falls in the marshland and snaps a power pole, does anyone hear the sound as all the lights go out in the surrounding neighborhood?

It takes a downgrade of at least 6% for a Hyundai Accent to maintain highway speed on momentum alone.

Cinnamon buns are not about the bread dough.

Neither are sandwiches.

Imagination means that I can come up with 8 different reasons why that spinach is stuck in your teeth. 56 if it's in your hair.

The size of a thumbdrive is in inverse proportions to how much trouble you're in when you LOSE it because it's so dang small.

Do you suppose that the woman who drove her car into a river because her coffee needed sweetener will start drinking it black? Or will there just be a new warning printed on the cup lids?

Do boy ladybugs worry about their masculinity?

If an octopus was arm wrestling a different opponent on each tentacle, how many matches do you suppose it would be likely to win?

And is it a coincidence that the local Curves is two doors down from the Baskin Robbins?

"Mr. Bean" in tights

I studied Shakespeare in school and still some of my favorite movies are Shakespearean in origin. Add Rowan Atkinson and this is FUNNY!

Small occasional inappropriateness warning, though...

Viagra and Vicodin (or ... Harbingers of Spring)

Ahh, spring. It's been randomly sunny, windy and raining here at home and I never quite know how carefully I should be dressing for an period longer than 10 minutes outside my front door. But that's just typical of spring here - although this one seems to be running cooler and longer than the average spring. It makes the weather reports and random statistics about the weather much more interesting - right up there with baseball stats.

"It's the first time since 1945 that a left handed hitter sat on the bench for the entire game without chewing gum on a Tuesday when it rained for the first five innings."

Apparently it's also the season for spammers to crawl out of winter hibernation and get to work like little radioactive bees hitting every spot they can. One of my accounts after a period of relative quiet, overnight got 115 messages filtered through to the spam folder. And the astonishing thing to me is - THEY WERE ALL SPAM. Not one innocently diverted message in the lot.

During my quick if conscious-driven perusal, I noticed that they were pretty equally weighted between Viagra and Vicodin taking up about 80% of the list.

Then came the daughter/son of Mr./Mrs. Johann/Meulich/Akibobo from Cote D'Ivoire/West Africa/New Guinea with a request for god-bless-you assistance to get funds out of the country, followed by offers to enlarge a body part I don't have for the pleasure of people I don't know. (Ick!)

One was marked (and this is roughly translated) "I've got stuff for you to buy! Whatever you think I can sell you!" I suppose that person deserves some credit for getting to the point.

So I've emptied the trash in the spam filter and I'm going out to my garden. Because that's really the type of dirt I prefer to be looking at this spring. And it's going to look real good today.

Provided it doesn't rain.

Ask a silly question

One of my monkeys came home from school today and the conversation went something like this:

Me: How was school today?

Monkey: Good.

Me: Did you do anything exciting?

Monkey: No, not really.

Me: Okay, well, remember to get your chores done right away and don't forget to make your lunch, k? (small reference to yesterday there - it's a habit.)

Monkey: I will.

(small pause while monkey wanders off and sits on the coffee table staring out the back window. I suspect a candy is being hidden from me.)

Monkey: By the way, when did the cherry tree fall down?

Me: What?

Monkey: The tree fell down.

Me: Where?

Monkey: In the front.

Me: What?

Monkey: The tree fell down.

Me: What? (There is simply no light dawning yet ...)

Monkey: The tree. It fell down.

Me: What?! (Ah, there it comes ...)

Monkey: It did! The cherry tree fell down.

Me: What?!?!?!?!!! (Slowly, though...)

Monkey: Go look! It fell down!

Me: What??!??!?!?!!!

Monkey: Mom! ...

Various voices from various parts of the house chime in at this point "What's going on?" "What's happening?" etc, etc.

Me: What!!??!??!!?

SG: What's going on?

Me: (gave up the witty banter and ran for the door, then the window, then another window, then outside. And to my utter surprise ...)

Cookies for the simple minded ...

or the rushed ... or the inept ...

Marriage tips from Johnny & Chachi

This guy's (Chachi's) teeth make me laugh so hard!!

A new neighbor

The last few times we've walked out our front door, it's been a pretty sure thing that someone will get freaked out.

Unfortunately, it usually seems to be me.

See, we have a new neighbor. She moved in so quietly I didn't even realize she was there. But when I left the house in a hurry one day, the sudden flurry of wings right beside my ear gave her away. A mourning dove had been sitting in a hanging planter that sits about 4 feet from our front door.

Nice, I thought. She'll move on.


Nope.

For a couple weeks now, I've forgotten she's there. And whenever we leave, the flurry of wings as she launched herself off the planter have startled us into the siding in one of those evasive reflex actions.

Then one day, there was no flurry. So I glanced over ...

and freaked out anyways. She just sat there, watching me. Not a twitch. Not a stir. Just two little dark eyes watching me. Somehow that was even freakier.


So today we finally figured it out. The kids were playing outside and apparently it finally got to be too much for her. She left the planter and we saw why she's been so still.


So it appears we'll have more neighbors soon. And until then, we're trying to remember not to startle the neighbor lady.

TMI in marketing

As you may or may not know, I have a fair bit of curl in my hair. I've spent decades fighting it and the other decades trying to learn how to live with it. Of course, this means that the quest for hair care is an ongoing one. And usually about the time I find a product I like, they stop making/selling it. Obviously I don't buy the high end brands that have been available since Eve first realized her roots needed some attention.

The other day I ran out of a personal favorite and asked SG to pick up some more. They didn't have it. They didn't even have a space on the shelf anymore. (I know, I've checked to confirm this.) So he brought home another brand.

Standing in the shower the next morning, I glanced over to see this slogan:

"I'm deliciously bent and your hair is, too."*

That's getting a little personal, don't you think?

*The dilemma now is that I like the conditioner. But if I buy it again, will the makers take that as a sign their marketing approach is working? Do I dare encourage that sort of behaviour? Or do I just put black tape boxes over the slogan so I don't feel so mildly violated every morning?

Work that kazoo!

Today I found this clip from one of my favorite bands, NewWorldSon:



Love it!

Spring already? Spring already!!

Spring is popping out already here in Oregon. The "experts" tell me that it's 11 days early.

How do they know that?

Who sent the memo? And why does it matter? I mean, are they going to try to call off spring? Will they jump out in their white coats, wave their arms frantically and watch nature grind to a halt and then withdraw shame-faced because of their early cue? Do they want her to try again in the hopes of getting an 8.5 from the German judge this time?

I have my doubts.

So while they fret over the date, I've got daffodils, crocuses, irises, tulips and primroses starting their show and I think I'm ready.

Brasseur & Eisler

I watched some figure skating at the Olympics tonight and will say I enjoyed it but nothing for me beats the absolute jaw-dropping fun of watching Isabelle Brasseur and Lloyd Eisler. They always chose fun music, they wore great costumes and the way he tossed her around was simply unbeaten.

I saw an interview with their coach once that said Brasseur's first reaction when asked to try out with Eisler was, "No way! I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair."

I'm glad she changed her mind.

Getting old ... my way

I celebrated another birthday an indeterminate number of days ago, and one of my children topped off the day by informing me, "You're only 9 years away from being old, Mom."

Ha! I'm way further than that from being old.

Right?

Then this morning I discovered that my routine has gotten a little more solidified these days.

*I like a certain type of spoon for my breakfast cereal and will dig through the drawer/dishwasher to find it.

*I have an optimal "milk moment" for that same cereal - when it's not too crunchy any more but not yet approaching soggy.

*I prefer when the comics and crossword are on the back page of a newspaper section and not hidden in the middle where it's harder to find and fold to my specifications. And if it's hidden for too many days in a row, I get a little testy.

*The shower can be before or after breakfast, but preferably not before 7am or after 9am (the beauty of being a writer is that I can choose to work in my PJs if I want to, but I've found there's a limit to the amount of warm fuzzy my brain can take before it just wants to sleep again.)

*I do have at least a fleeting thought about comfortable shoes each morning. Don't always give in but there's mental math sometimes about # of hours on feet x type of activity x chances to rest - is this a place I can kick my shoes off if need be + what lingering effects I might be feeling after yesterday's shoes ...

The good news is I'm still pretty flexible after 9 am. But maybe I should start writing these things down so the kids have the list ready for the home.

When it's time, of course. Because I'm not old yet.

Hagiography

I learned a new word today:

hagiography

noun - 1. a biography of a saint
2. an uncritical biography, treating its subject with undue reverence.

Why does this interest me?

Well, just so happens my nickname is college was "Hag." (If you know my maiden name, you'll get it.) And the recent death of a good friend had me thinking about the kinds of things that might be said after I die. You know, the old what-do-you-want-people-to-say-at-your-funeral approach to life. It seems to me that it would be entirely appropriate for someone to write, not just a biography, but a hagiography about me. It's considered polite to speak well of the dead, so just step it up a notch to "undue reverence." Or maybe just say I'm a saint.

I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?





















*added 2-26-10: I read Fifth Business for the first time last weekend (I know, still working through my college text required reading. Don't think the teacher will accept the paper 20 years after the fact though ...). Anyways, who knew there was a novel that actually uses this word? A LOT, too?

Okay, probably my college professor ...

The secret to lasting happiness

Having a bad day? All you need to do to lighten your mood is find a funny cat video (or a funny cat). There's really nothing funnier than watching a cat do something - well - cat-typical ...

Hold on to your hats!

It has been "Toto-hang-on-tight!" windy here lately. Driving down the street is a discovery as we look for who's fence blew over in the night. And since I've gone to a short hair cut (not exactly on purpose), the only remedy for having my eyebrows raised as the wind threatens to pull my hair off is to cram a hat on and hope it stays.

But I learned some interesting things.

1. We don't have hurricanes on the west coast. We just call it "seasonal weather."

2. It turns out I can swing as hard as I want on my garden swing. It swings high enough to clear the cement retaining wall behind it.

3. Some trees flex better than others.

4. Raking our lawn really isn't completely necessary. We just need to learn to wait and then let the neighbor(s) downwind rake them for us.

5. Extra garden bricks and/or rocks are useful as well as occasionally decorative.

6. Our 5' x 6' kiddie pool is actually capable of becoming air born. ("Hey, just rake that up for me, would ya?")

Mixed messages

Like many people, I've been trying to keep an eye on the family grocery budget. And every once in awhile, I'll buy something just because it's cheap. Like eggplant. Or cauliflower. And I generally feel doubly virtuous because it's good for us AND it's saving us money. Except when my family won't eat it. Like the eggplant. Or the cauliflower.

Anyway, a couple weeks ago, whole chickens were on special. Really cheap. I mean, super duper really cheap. I have to explain that I don't roast whole poultry very often. My sister and I have a family tradition of phoning my mom on Thanksgiving to ask her why the turkey isn't cooked yet. And then we got smart and started letting my brother-in-law cook the bird. He's very good.

But this chicken was cheap. So I bought three. My thinking ran something like this, "This is super cheap. And even if we don't eat them, I could cook one and take it to the neighbors." I don't usually inflict untried recipes on neighbors, just so you know. But there's been someone in hospital, etc ...

Well, the ironic thing is that once I bought them, these chickens took up space in the freezer. So I had to cook one. And it turned out pretty good. A little dry but that's because I had to put it in a smidge early because I wasn't going to be home and SG was in a meeting so he couldn't baste it. But we got our rosemary-roasted chicken out of the oven and sat down to eat supper.

It was a beautiful moment. Practically Norman Rockwell.

And then it occurred to me that my children hadn't seen a chicken that actually looked like a chicken come out of the oven in, like, forever. Oh, well. A little to late to worry about that now. We're farm stock, after all, and they'll have to recognize the realities of life at some point. "Children, I have to tell you something - not all meat grows up wrapped in cellophane."

We all dished up and I asked the usual question, "How was school today?"

"It was great. We had a lady come and talk to us about not being cruel to animals."

Oh, well.

Jingle-itis

I thought I had it right.

For probably a couple decades now, I thought I had it right. And then I baked a pie.

See, we were in the grocery store the other day and they happened to have Sara Lee pies on special - buy one, get one free. Free pie?! Okay!

So we picked out two, an apple and a cherry. Let me mention that I am blessed, blessed, blessed to be married to a man that prefers store-bought pastry. In spite of the number of women that have given me a no-fail pastry recipe, SG still prefers the store bought pastry for his pumpkin pie. And with company coming, and a small shortage of time, I went on a pie-buying streak this Thanksgiving. If it helps redeem me a little, though, I make the filling right from a real pumpkin.

As I was baking the pie, I found myself humming a little jingle and realized it was the Sara Lee jingle. But one glance at the box stopped me cold. Mid hum.

The box said "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee."

What!!?!

That's not right!

I reread the box. Oddly enough, it still said the same thing - "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee."

For years (and years and years) I've been singing, "Nobody does it like Sara Lee."

Years.

And apparently I've been wrong the entire time!

The shock was too much. Sure, I ate the pie, but it was with a sense of disillusionment. Don't get me wrong - I didn't not like it. So I guess their slogan isn't all wrong. But how could nobody notice that it's a blatant double negative? What kind of message is that for a pie company to use? Is that really the best they could say about their pies? "Well, nobody doesn't like them..."

I may have just developed a small "doesn't like" for Sara Lee.