Monday, May 29, 2006
Skip, skip, skip to your room (for the rest of your life!)
This morning at 11:00 I got a frantic call from my Mom. Zeenee's teacher had just called home and told Mom that Zee hadn't showed up for first period. The teacher thought it was odd as she'd seen Zee in the hallway before classes, but she hadn't shown up for Social Studies. Mom was worried because she knew Zeenee NEVER SKIPS CLASS.

Subsequently, I went into a state of panic because ZEENEE NEVER SKIPS CLASS. Never in the fourteen and a half year history of my oldest child has she EVER skipped a class. This is a kid who pushes herself so hard in school that she beats herself up for getting a B+. She wants all A's and if she doesn't get em, she just works harder & harder the following semester until she achieves top marks. SHE HAS NEVER SKIPPED A CLASS.

So now my heart is racing and I'm starting to tear up as my imagination runs away with any sense of reason I may have possessed just five minutes ago. Where is she? Who took her? What's happening to her?

I phone her cell phone. No answer, so I leave a husky-voiced-trying-not-to-burst-into-sobs message. "Zee, where are you? You call me the second you get this message because we just got a call from the school that you were absent for first period and I'm frantically looking for you. Call me! And if you didn't get that the first time, CALL ME!"

Then I phone Cheap Bastard's work. His line is busy (Mom had said she'd phone him for me...but it's now been 2.3567 minutes and I can't wait any longer for some reassurance). I call CB's cell phone. Busy. I call Zeenee's phone again. No answer. I call the school. Get that teacher to call me at work pronto. Then I sit shaking. What do I do? Who do I call next? Should I start driving towards the school?

Then, five enourmous minutes later (seriously, could they make minutes any longer these days?), my Mom calls again to say that they've located her in Art class...second period. She didn't feel like going to she just didn't. SHE SKIPPED CLASS!

I guess when I tried calling CB at work, he was simultaneously on his work phone and his cell with Zeenee and my Mom. His words of wisdom to Zeenee:

"Didn't I tell you that if you were ever going to skip class not to get caught?"

What a wise old asshat he is! WTF! How about "you are so totally grounded for the rest of your existence for making your mother age 10 years in five minutes." Or, "you better decide what we're having for dinner, because it's to be your very last meal." Not "don't get caught"!!! He thinks we shouldn't be too hard on her tonight because it's her first offence and "we both know how many classes we skipped in high school" (we went to grades 11 & 12 together...rather we never went to grades 11 & 12 together, we were too busy doing other things...together). I don't care if he thinks it's funny or ironic or nothing to worry about. I want to nip it in the bud right now. Does he really want her to turn out like one of us? Are we breeding a whole new race of losers here or are we trying to mould well-rounded kids with good morals?

I guess I'm going to end up saying something "mom-ish" to her like, "you'll never know the extreme emotions I encountered this morning...until you're a mother."

...she's so grounded until she's 30!

"Please respect the privacy of my client, Skippy McSkipperson, as she struggles through the post-trial sentencing."

Time until I'm back with my family: 34 minutes...then I bring out the big guns on that teen-monster!

Laundry List: "Hello, my name is Zeenee. I will be your laundry maid for the next millenium."

Thursday, May 25, 2006
Why I'm grateful that some muscles still work well (warning, gross use of exclamation points!) I'm lying on an excercise mat with a small bouncy ball stuffed under my tailbone. My legs are straight up in the air, stretched out. It's the first time in my life that I've ever been able to keep my legs up in the air for any length of time (quiet! I know my husband would be rude and say differently)...I've never been flexible. This excercise is awesome....every muscle in my back and legs is comfortably stretched and I'm almost experiencing euphoria.

...but, to my disdain, all I can think about is the air that is trying to escape from my bum. And oh my hell no, please don't let me rip a giant fart in this tiny studio with all these strange women about. The relaxation music playing in the background could never hope to muffle the sound. Damn you spaghetti and meatballs that I ate for dinner! Damn your meatbally goodness! Lord give me the power to suck this in for the next ten minutes...cause I just cannot make this foul of an impression for my first Step/Muscle/Power class.

I managed to keep it in (thank you!). That was me at the Rec Centre last night. My new friend Natalie, from Weight Watchers, convinced me to give a class a try and I actually loved it. Granted, I jumped around like an orangatang trying to keep up with the step part, but I eventually mastered the Charlston (I may have been doing that part when everyone else was doing the jump-shot, but so what? I ACED the Charlston step!). I think I'll get better and more in step (ha! pun!) with each class if I continue to go. We also used a body bar, which is just a weighted bar that you do arm curls and lifts with (which yay! I didn't drop it or anything!). Then at the end we did lots of abdominal exercises using a small ball (looked like a little kids bouncy ball...mine had stars...pretty!). And that's when I felt the urge to expell dangerous gasses. Oy!

Afterwards we went out to the track across the road and ran/walked a couple of laps (where, as if you really wanted to know, I was able to privately expell the noxious air). I feel great today (ask me again tomorrow though. When I can't walk from my front door to the car). The best part was the instructor was fabulous...she's the same shape/weight as I am, so I didn't feel intimidated or anything. She was totally friendly and personable and I wanted to take her home (Please Mom! I promise to feed her and walk her everyday!).

She also teaches beginner spinning classes and I've always wanted to try that. At my regular gym spinning is an extra cost and you have to arrive three days early to reserve a bike...and the lady teaching there is a YELLER...she scares me. New instructor promised that she doesn't yell or expect great (good/average/well below normal) things...and that she will pick me up off the floor if I fall off the bike (which is likely, considering the student). Yay!

Friday night. Spinning 101. No gas inducing foods for dinner.

Time until I'm back with my family: 5 hours, 23 minutes

Laundry List: Sports bra that gives me the lovely "uni-boob" look. Other non-flattering gym clothes.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006
2nd Annual Bloggers Poker Tourney
Poker Tournament

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 7330476

Tuesday, May 23, 2006
120 Months, 5 hours, 33 minutes
Ten years ago today, at exactly 4:06 pm, I became the mother of two little girls. Before this, I was simply the mother of sweet 4 1/2 year old cherub, who up to this point, had been the only grandchild on either side of the family. So spoiled was she, that princesses from small countries sent their servants to steal her secrets...but alas, they never did acquire them (for she is just as spoiled today as ever).

Arriving at the hospital early that Thursday morning and scheduled to be induced (Miss 13 Days Late, thank you very much!), we had no idea if our family would be joined by a male version of our species or a female version. The doctor broke my water around 9:00 a.m. and the contractions started coming just after lunch. To pass the time and speed up the process, Cheap Bastard and I paced the hallways of Rockyview Hospital in Calgary dreaming up new and creative names for our charge. We already knew that a son would be called Budgie (thanks to Uncle Budgie in Quebec, Cheap Bastard's best friend), for we had had that name picked for a boy before Zeenee was born. We had also picked out a suitable and unusual name for a girl. Unusual because it is a name commonly used for a boy...although a famous actress is blessed with the same moniker. We just went through the motions of suggesting outlandish titles to pass the time (and the contractions. Oh, stop a minute, that one was a doozie...yowza!) Names ranged from Hamilton to MacKenzie to Homer for a boy to Alexei to Suburbia to Boston for a girl...and back to Budgie or Anabella for keepers. Whichever kind we got, we had a name ready.

Anabella Madison D2bH was born at 4:06 p.m. on May 23rd, 1996 weighing 7 lbs. 9 oz. My Mom had the priviledge of being in the room with us to see the birth and she got to cut the umbilical cord of her second grandaughter...a story she will tell to anyone who will listen...still to this day...just ask the cashier at Safeway!
(I can't get into CB's computer to get some better pictures cause he reformatted his computer this weekend and can't seem to get the damned thing up and running again...and the vulgarities escaping from his mouth are making me blush...oh my, I've never even heard THAT ONE before!)

Ten years ago already! How did that happen?

Because she was born on a long weekend (Victoria Day...all my kids were born on long weekends), we usually have her birthday parties the weekend before or the weekend after. Saturday we have scheduled a party at the local horse riding stables. Me and horses? Don't get along so good. They are evil and smelly. I. Am not. (okay, I kind of am...but I do shower more than most horses) I am in possession of a teen and a TWEEN...and a soon to be tween! Correction, they are in possession of me...

...and really, I'm lovin every minute of it!

(help me!)

Saturday, May 20, 2006
Because I'm all about stomping on the last remaining particles of my minute self-esteem

Go here. Try this out for yourself.

Then you can also get an accurate picture of what you really look like on the beach, wearing a swimsuit...on a REALLY GOOD hair day...and your skin is glowing and perfectly tinted...

...but as for the rest of you, you want to run and hide under a very large beach towel, so you can read a sleazy romance novel while sipping on a Coke and scarfing down Doritos!

(or is it just me that does that?)

Thursday, May 18, 2006
Envy Me...I am an HTML GENIUS!!!
LOOK!!! You are now reading this post from the top of the page! You are no longer forced to scroll down to the dungeons of D2bH...only to find out that, no she hasn't posted anything new lately.

LOOK!! On the sidebar! I now live in British Columbia.
Not British -space-space-space-space- Columbia.

Even though I am now an official "HTML Genius" (I just ordered the t-shirt!), I thought it tacky to run around the office in a victory lap, pumping my fists in the air...Rocky theme song playing loudly in the background. Da na na. Da na na. Na na na, na na na. Da na na na na na. NA, NA!! I did it back here behind my cubicle walls!

Stolen from Miss Zoot (designer of beautiful blog templates...example: mine) who stole it from Pam who took it from Amber...and I told two friends and she told two friends and so on and so on...

I AM: mind-numbingly tired this week.

I SAID: I would be a Guide Leader again in the fall, but now I'm having second thoughts. Not sure if I love it all that much anymore. I need to really think on this.

I WANT: a lilac purple Coach handbag I saw on ebay yesterday (this one is similar). Damn you Amalah - Queen of handbags - for bringing to my attention such outlandish luxuries! If I even had the $348 U.S. dollars to spend on such a beautiful thing, my husband would taunt and laugh at me EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY for the rest of my life...for spending that kind of money...on a purse!

I WISH: I had $348 US dollars...(I could live with the constant torment from Cheap Bastard)

I HATE: cauliflower...and all of his vile friends...brocolli, wax beans, brussel sprouts...I have tried to eat it, but...shudder

I MISS: this really good friend Cheap Bastard and I had in Calgary. We spent a lot of time with him through high school and afterwards...but just before we moved to BC he stopped talking to us...and we've never been sure why. (Shane Jordan...if you're ever Googling your own name and run accross this...Vicky & Richard miss you very much. We thought about calling last year when we were in town, but feared the rejection. If you feel like it, email us: procrastamom AT gmail DOT com)

I FEAR: this the most.

I HEAR: the same set of songs on this radio station at work every day...would it kill them to mix it up a little?

I WONDER: what we should do this weekend? Zeenee is going to Whistler with her best friend's family. We're not going camping...we may never go again on the May Long Weekend. I want to go on a hike or a picnic...maybe find a new waterfall that we've never explored.

I REGRET: not finishing my college diploma program. If I'd finished it I'd most likely be working as a Legal Secretary in a senior position by now. Instead, I've always been afraid to even apply for any position with a law firm. It's a vicious circle...I don't have experience, so I won't get the job...I won't get the experience, cause I don't have the job.

I AM NOT: liking this new payroll job (the commies won. Thusly I was forced into this role against my will. Damn you commies!). It's boring and tedious and there's nothing for me to do in between. Therefore, I do here-to-fore and there-to-when proclaim that I will take no responsibility for the indecent amount of blog-surfing I am doing here at work! Take that commies!

I DANCE: in the kitchen to make my children laugh. I do an over the top version of the dying swan...complete with 9 or 10 separate and excessive death scenes! Did you know swans can die from being impaled by a spatula disguised under an oven mitt?

I SING: loudly in the car on the way to work. But I stop and try to look normal if I catch somebody looking at me.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: happy about having to go to work. Ha, ha! I crack me up. I'm NEVER happy about having to go to work.

I MADE: myself my fourth cup of tea for the day...and it's only 11:30.

I WRITE: blog posts in my head, especially when I'm in the bathroom and I have nothing better to think about (thank you Vicky, now we're all wretching just a little from the pictures you have just implanted in our heads)...but by the time I sit down to write them, that prose has flown the coop that is my brain and you get some badly written abridged version or no post at all.

I CONFUSE: my kids names all the time, especially when I'm yelling at them. I usually get frustrated and it comes out like this: "Budgie, no Zeenee, I mean Bella! Whatever-the-hell your name is, get over here!"

I NEED: new bras. On one of my bras the underwire broke in half and that piece of wire fell when I walk around I have one perky boob and one squishy flat boob. I have exactly one bra that keeps me perky on both sides.

I SHOULD: be thinking about how to get $50 for new bras instead of how to get $348 for a purse.

I START: too many things that I know I won't finish.

I FINISH: almost nothing.

I BELIEVE: I'm getting really hungry. Yup, that was indeed my tummy rumbling just a second ago.

I KNOW: I should drink more water than I do. It's the hardest part of my diet to conform to.

I CAN: roll my eyes around really fast in their sockets. Sadly, it's my only talent.

I CAN’T: believe how long this list is. I'm going to lunch.

(...and now I'm back)

I SEE: that I don't have too much time left in this workday. And then I have a four-day weekend to look forward to. Score!

I BLOG: infrequently...

I READ: a lot in the summer. I don't find I have time during the rest of the year.

I AM AROUSED BY: hot, muscle-bound, handsome men chocolate.

IT PISSES ME OFF: when someone eats the last piece of chocolate.

I FIND: I'm feeling better and better about my body as the weight comes off.

I LIKE: taking naps on our trampoline.

I LOVE: Cheap Bastard, Zeenee, Bella and Budgie...more than cheese!

Time until I'm back with my family: 3 hours, 9 minutes

Laundry List: perky bra, oven mitt

Missing No Longer
Thank Goodness she was found alive!

A missing 11-year-old girl from the B.C. Interior community of Armstrong, who police feared yesterday had been abducted, has reportedly been found, and is safely being cared after at a hospital in Vernon, B.C. A man has been arrested in connection with her disappearance, but he has not been charged.

I was so relieved to hear this on the radio this morning when I got to work. As a Mother, nothing strikes fear into me as much as the thought of one of my children going missing. I really believe that there could be no worse fate. It's horrible to say, but I think I would rather know that my child was dead than missing. At least I would know where they were...I wouldn't have to wonder forever...fear that they were constantly being hurt, abused, neglected...

After 15 years, do this child's parents sleep at night? Does the pain ever go away? Does it even subside a little bit? Is there just too much anxiety? Guilt? Remorse? Does that day replay over and over in their minds?

I'm praying now that little Carmen wasn't too badly hurt and traumatized in the past two days. For her and her family, I wish for peace.

My fellow Moms...what do you fear the most?

Friday, May 12, 2006
Look! I am Super. Look! I am Hero.
Procrasta-Mom is an official Super Hero people! Here. I'll prove it. I got my own trading card! Seriously. People are flocking by the hundreds to aquire one of these rare gems:

I got the idea from Mary Tsao over at Mom Writes (one of my "must reads" every day). She can guide you through the process here. Go over and make your own card now...then we can like, go over by the bike racks at recess and trade.

The blogger who started this (you can find out about her on Mary's blog...too lazy and too "pretending to work" right now to link) is aiming to get 100 Moms to make a trading card by Mother's Day. Well, it's Friday already, so get on over there and help make the dream a reality (Zowee! I should be in marketing. So very original).

Consider this. I am Procrasta-Mom...and I did it a FULL THREE DAYS before the deadline. Score! Winna! I am da best! (thumb and forefinger poised on forehead...l-ooo-ooo-zaa!)

Now, if only Procrasta-Mom could do other things before the deadline. Like, oh, I don't know...get ready for camp on time (it's this weekend. Read, tonight! And are the crafts ready? Kinda. And are my clothes packed? Kinda. And am I leaving at 4:30 as soon as a I get home? Kinda.).

Or buy a birthday present for her nephew (Beans is 2 this weekend. Am taking a trip to Toys R Us at lunchtime...cause I won't be here for the party and Cheap Bastard couldn't shop for it...Oh no, no he couldn't. What to buy a two year old? He had no idea. Anything plastic and shiny I told he gave me the blank stare).

Or, oh, I don't some actual work at her job...

...bah! I've got all day...

Time until I'm back with my family: 5 hours, 20 minutes - then off to camp!

Laundry list: I hope I don't accidentally wash my pants with my rare trading card in the pocket...

Thursday, May 11, 2006
Did I ever tell you about the time Cheap Bastard almost got into a rumble?
Okay. Here it is...

Zeenee, Bella and I had been at the track at the private school across from our house running/biking/walking (Zeenee/Bella/Me) and we were waiting to cross the street on our way home.

Bella looks up the street for cars and, pointing, says, "oh look, there's Daddy in the van." We can see him approaching the crosswalk and I know he's gonna do something silly like, oh I don't know, brake really hard and lay on the we start to cross in front of him and what happens? Yes of course. He speeds up as he's approaching the crosswalk, practically does a brake-stand with our minivan, lays on the horn and starts screaming and shaking his fist.

I get into the act myself (cause our neighbourhood, she is boring and needs a drama) and start screaming (and laughing) and giving him the finger (and laughing) and I shake my fist at him for good measure (and I'm still laughing).

What neither of us notice in our utter madness and stupidity is that a guy on a motorcycle has pulled up behind Cheap Bastard and is taking in the whole act. This guy is decked out...driving a bigass Harley, head to toe leather, topped off with a black, skull-cap helmet. Granted, he doesn't look that unsavoury...just scarier than my minivan driving, Docker-wearing, IT geek husband.

As we finish crossing the road, Biker Guy pulls up beside Cheap Bastard's open window and yells, "hey Buddy, the law around here says that we should stop for pedestrians. Where the hell are you going in such a big hurry?!" which Cheap Bastard jumps out of the van in a vicious rage and clubs Biker Guy with the arm-rest he's just ripped from the seat...

No wait, that last part didn't happen. Actually, Cheap Bastard hurriedly explains that we are, in fact, his wife and kids and we all were just goofing around. The poor Biker Guy starts apologizing left and right to all of us and then drives off all red in the face.

...and I ran home fast, cause I had to pee from all the laughing (I felt really bad for him afterwards. I should have baked him a pie and taken it over to his house...of course tasting that would have just added insult to baking ain't winning any contests...).

Did I ever tell you that story? No, I never did. Cause it just happened on Monday night.

...but come see me in ten years and I'll say, "did I ever tell you about the time Cheap Bastard almost got into a rumble?"

(Sidenote: I was very excited at the opportunity to be able to use the word "rumble" in a post (even if Cheap Bastard didn't necessarily "escape death by a thread" or anything). S.E. Hinton's "The Outsiders" is my alltime favourite book. As a teenager, I bet I read it over 100 times. Ponyboy and Dally were always getting in rumbles...and with my red hair, I always fancied myself as that book's for the poodle skirts and saddle shoes. I wasn't a Greaser or a Soc, but I wanted to be one!)

Time until I'm back with my family: 5 hours, 26 minutes

Laundry list: Wet pants (from the laughing), poodle skirt (Cherry was a Soc)

Sunday, May 07, 2006
Warning! Do Not Gamble And takes a heck of a long time to finish!
So, uhm...sorry about my last post. I can really be a whiner when I want to be eh? (That's Canadian if you weren't, we like say it all the Except we don't.) I got EIGHT comments out of it so...I'm pretty much set for the next year! (I. am. pathetic...and cheap) Nobody had anything really nasty to say though...I guess I'll have to challenge you harder. Here, how's this? (controversial confessions forthcoming):

  • I didn't breastfeed any of my children for more than a week each (and none of them have since grown horns...except for Budgie...who thought he was growing some when my brother told him you grow horns when you pick your nose).

  • I used the "cry-it-out" method to get my children to sleep through the night (they have had no apparent rejection issues...except for the part where they refer to me as Mrs. D2bH) worked, but only in Zeenee's case...she slept 12 hours a night from two weeks old...the other two tortured me for years!

  • I've had all my children vaccinated, I don't believe in the "family bed" (for us...not you), I give my kids candy...and pop (caffeine!), they watch television, I let them use the INTERNET! (will the madness never stop?!!) you can hate me just a little. Those hateful comments are a-brewing, I can feel it!


A few of you have commented on my new blog-skin. I LOVE IT!!! It's designed by one of my favouritest (it's a word...I said so!) bloggers, Miss Zoot. She is a mega-talented designer and she actually has a few designs you can download for free...but I'm totally going to use the donate button on her site and give her some moola for this design, because damn it's gorgeous! I was actually going to give her my firstborn, but I couldn't fit Zeenee through the monitor...her shoulders are too wide.

The only problem I'm having is with the main part of the posts being pushed down below the that what you're seeing too? I have tried looking at it on Cheap Bastard's 2000 inch monitor (he gets all the best stuff...*sulk*) and it still looks like that to me. Does anyone know HTML? What part of the template would I look in to change the margins?


I'm playing poker and blogging at the same time right now...I just took this guy out who looks like Steve Zahn. I feel really bad. I love Steve Zahn :(

Speaking of him, we watched Chicken Little last night with the kids...and laughed our pants off! Steve Zahn played the pig named Runt...h.i.l.a.r.i.o.u.s!! I love kids movies that have as many jokes for the parents as they do for the little ones.

The only thing is my 4 year old nephew, D, calls it "Chicken Noodle", of course I can't see the title of the movie and think anything else other than "there's that movie...Chicken Noodle!"


Number Four (this post is going everywhere!). I lost TWO MORE POUNDS this week! And soon I will disappear altogether. Okay, that will take a few months years, but I'll get there...then I will change my name to "Invisi-Mom" (and I will finally rule the world! mwah, ha, ha, ha!)


And finally, I have had to restrain myself from going all "pageant mom" on Bella who is trying out for the select soccer team this weekend. She was asked to come back to the invitation only try-outs today and tomorrow, so we're quite proud of her progress so far. All the parents were instructed by the coaches though to keep our mouths SHUT and not coach our kids from the sidelines whilst they were trying out. Can I just express how truly hard that is? Soccer Moms? Anyone tried this? Anyone?

I am, by nature, a yeller. When I think my daughter is slacking off a little...I yell at her (okay I suggest a loud voice) to run! Or get in the play! Or drink some water, you're looking tired! Which I was not permitted to do today.

At last week's tryouts (which were general and not invitation only) I passed a Mom who was spouting some crap to the tune of "I can't believe how everyone here thinks their princess should be on the select team." And I thought, "well you're here, so you obviously think your princess has a chance...just like the rest of us." Funny, I didn't see her or her daughter there today...

...princesses these days!

Thursday, May 04, 2006
Boo hoo! Poor little old me...
I'm really sad about blogging today...a stupid, feeling sorry for my stupid-self sad. Am I sad because I read a heart wrenching post elsewhere? No. Did my blog crash with my year's worth of writing and now I want to jump off the Lion's Gate Bridge 'cause I'm that sad? Nope, didn't happen. Do I just want to actually feel like I'm part of the giant blogosphere's conversation once in a while by getting a decent number of readers per day that actually want to leave me comments? Am I sad about that? Well, embarassing as it is to admit, yes. That's why I'm a little sad about blogging today. And yes, that's quite stupid and self serving and blah de blah, blah blah...but seriously, this is what I'm wallowing in today.

Now I know other bloggers have said that they don't blog for their readers, they blog for themselves. I don't know, maybe 100 page views and 60 comments a day will make you wish for more anonimity (sp? I'm not spell checking this...too sad), especially when some of those comments are hateful, spiteful and judgemental. But in my case, if I wanted to strictly write for myself, I'd just buy myself a nice moleskine notebook and start every entry with "Dear Diary". I've never been a journaler (is that a word?) though...not once in my life have I managed to keep a daily, weekly or even once in a while record of who I am. Until now...until this past year when I discovered blogging. Until I discovered that, for free even, I could press a few buttons and interact with people all over the world. That I could learn about their incredible lives and I could, in turn, share a little about me.

I definately think there's something wrong with my pages. I'm overdoing the keywords or underdoing them or some other such blather that I need to play with and bring under control...because I've been getting 25 people here a day for the last nine months. 25! Whole people! And very few comments.

I'm not egotistical enough to think that I'll ever be in the blogging big leagues. I'm no Amalah (but oh to be that pretty and own all those bags...just for a day...mmmm *drool*)...I'm Vicky. I'm 34. I'm a regular mom. I'm a working mom. I'm a soccer-mom. I'm a (fantastic, just ask my don't, he'll lie) wife. I have something to say. I have a humourous story for you (I'm also Canadian and put "u's" in words that most Americans don't recognize as the English language. Take that humour, neighbour, favour, labour!). I have something to whine about (you're going "duh, like today maybe?"). I have something to celebrate. I've been at this for almost a year!

I'm truly sad (in more ways than one...have you witnessed my hair today?)...and I'll probably want to hit delete as soon as I post this, but maybe it needs to be said. Maybe there are others who feel like me. Maybe?

So, anyways....(**awkward silence**)

Here. I'll challenge you. Due to my depressing lack of comments and readership, I've never managed to receive a single, solitary nasty comment or hate mail from anyone. So, I challenge you to take me to task about this post. Call me names, tell me I'm a whiner, ridicule me for being self-absorbed, tell me I should be concentrating on world peace or the state of womens' feet due to wearing high-heeled shoes -- instead of wallowing in comment misery. Use expletives. Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel...

...just don't make fun of my hair. I know already...

Time until I'm back with my family: 4 hours, 57 minutes

Laundry List: I guess I'll need to wash the tablecloth from my pity party.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Insomnia, Worry and a Very Bad Man
I stayed home from work yesterday. I told them I had a migraine, but the truth is I just didn't sleep well the night before and all I wanted when the alarm went off at 5:23 was at least another night's rest. Something woke me at 1:55 a.m. and, after realizing that the alarm clock had become mysteriously unplugged, and, after much cursing and swearing and getting up to pee, I. just. could. not. get. back. to. sleep. Here are some of the many things that were running through my mind (and preventing my beauty sleep):

  • I have to make cardboard guitars for our Guide meeting on Tuesday. Where do I get eleventy-million tons of cardboard by tomorrow? For really cheap?

  • When am I going to find the time between now (Sunday night) and Tuesday at 6:00 p.m. to cut out 18 cardboard guitars?

  • Should we paint the guitars or colour them with markers?

  • When are we going to sell the 40 extra cases of Girl Guide cookies sitting in my co-leader's living room. (Anybody want some GG cookies? $4.00 a box!)

  • Maybe I should just quit Girl Guides and let someone else deal with it. No, silly. You love Guiding. You're just tired.

  • But why did I agree to making guitars? Out of cardboard? For 18 girls?

So...I took the day off and got some extra rest. I solved the guitar problem by going out into my backyard and discovering (among the sh*t-load of junk piled up waiting to go to the dump) a pile of cardboard left over from our bathroom renovation. I sliced and diced, with my box cutter, 18 cardboard guitars (and lived to tell the missing limbs!) And, I spent my remaining birthday money on flowers...cause nothing picks me up better than a little gardening.

Because I was feeling much, much better by this point I decided to walk up to the school and pick up Bella and Budgie. Imagine my surprise at seeing my son walk out of school with his middle-upper lip coloured with black Sharpie marker. Apparently, he got bored in the afternoon with everything else going on...oh like, I don't know, education and decided to colour his face. With black Sharpie marker! That would not come off!

So, yes, I was that Mom in PoCo yesterday, walking the young Fuhrer home for a wash....and a long, age-appropriate, talk about history and politics....

Desperate to be a Housewife

Time until I'm back with my family: 4 hours, 58 minutes

Laundry List: gardening gloves, white face-cloth with black smudges

April 27th was...
It was my birthday last Thursday. I turned 34. Or 29 plus 5. Or one year short of 35 (eeeeep!). Anyways, it was my birthday on Thursday and not much happened. We had chicken fingers and fries for dinner. And cinnamon buns from Cinnzeo for dessert. Yes, we really know how to celebrate in the D2bH household. Oh yeah. Also? My brother forgot my birthday. No biggie really. After all, I wasn't really paying enough attention to even notice that he forgot. Hell, I wanted to forget!

I guess he was feeling really bad about not calling me on Thursday, so when we went over to my brother's house on Saturday night for poker, Ivan and Debbie had cake and presents waiting for me (huzzah!). Our friend Brandy works at Safeway and on Saturday during her shift she bought a cake that had been ordered, but never picked up for five bucks. The top of the cake originally said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRIS", so she bought a tube of matching icing and was going to remove "Chris" and replace it with "Vicky". Ivan got ahold of the cake as soon as she brought it in the house and changed it himself. After his revisions, this is what my cake read (you can totally tell that we grew up in the same household and inherited the same idiotic sense of humour):