Wednesday, January 30, 2008

26 years of wedded bliss with the goatman.

Last week was our 26th anniversary. We went out for dinner to East Side Mario's which has recently opened in our neighbourhood. As I watched the building go up I was so hoping it would be a good Olive Garden substitute. It's not. To be fair, I can't complain. The wait to get in was shorter than OG. The food was good enough. Service was good. But over all it was "ordinary" I wouldn't hesitate to go again, but it wouldn't be my first option.

Anyway... while we were dining and looking lovingly into each other's eye I said to my husband, "We should buy a house." This comment even took me off guard. I guess the wine at Mario's was speaking.

Two hours later we phoned our good friend who just happens to be in real estate and 12 hours later we were viewing a house and making an offer. Now I've made some whim purchases in my life, but they don't usually amount to hundreds of thousands of dollars.

We are still sitting a few thousand apart between what we are willing to pay and what the seller is willing to accept, so it looks like the deal may not go through after all. But I do have an appointment with Darrell my good buddy at the bank. So we'll see.

Some nights I wake up at 3am thinking, "God, what am I doing? I hate having 1 mortgage, why do I want two?" And the next night I wake up thinking, "What if it doesn't go through? I already have the paint colours picked out."

Truly I am quite excited about having our own private episode of HGTV's real reno home makeover disaster. I hope it happens. But I don't see the big picture like God is capable of. If it truly is going to be a disaster, I hope He intervenes before it's too late. My banker phoned in sick today so our afternoon appointment was canceled. Is that an intervention?


Can you spot the differences? Haha. Twenty six years is a long long time.



Friday, January 25, 2008

I didn't do it and I didn't see anything. (Expressed with hands in air in mock arrest position.)

The kind officer didn't take too well to my expression of humour late in the afternoon yesterday. Had I thought for a nano-second, I would not have responded in such a disrespectful manner.

We have many customers-in-uniform of all sorts who will pop into the store to pick up chemicals or drop off their dirty hot tub filters to get cleaned. For example, just last week we had a large pumper truck in the parking lot and eight firemen wandering through the store while one of them received a full-scale hot tub presentation. And today two ambulance attendants from V'hoof stopped for some supplies. It's all in a day's work.

But yesterday when the officer brushed off my attempt at humour and began to seriously interrogate me, my attitude was quickly brought into check. I don't know what I was thinking. For the previous hour we had been listening to the radio and standing with our faces pressed to the window watching the action across the street where someone had just been shot and killed in the parking lot. This is serious stuff.

Today I had a customer express shock and disgust that the restaurant had been closed down for the rest of the evening yesterday. ... uh, hello?? Someone has been killed. Dead. In our little town. Of course I didn't fess up to my own lack of respect, as I reprimanded her saying, "If that was my son laying dead, I'd demand that no stone was left unturned in the investigation and every scrap of evidence possible be gathered in the most diligent manner."

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Wake up and smell the coffee.

Our house is small. It has 2 bedrooms and a large closet/pantry room that will eventually become an ensuite. It's the perfect size for empty nesters.

Our unfinished basement is currently unusable, even for storage, because we have it cleaned out awaiting approval for funding assistance to put a basement suite in for Jed, who is currently occupying the second bedroom.

Last Tuesday as I was walking in from my art class, the phone was ringing. Zedd responded to my saying hello with, "Mom can we come stay overnight?" Now I had heard rumours that things weren't so wonderful in their living arrangements but this caught me completely off guard.

It was the wisest for he and Jade to completely remove themselves from the situation, and by the time they arrived 20 minutes later we had a bed all made up with a double foamy on the floor of the little room, as we affectionately call it.

Within minutes of discussion and hashing out the possibilities, I knew we'd be living in a crowded nest for a while - at least until the end of the month.

A short time later with my head still reeling with the goings on, I answered the phone once again, "I can't talk now, but the pulp mill is burning down!" Oh great. Now my entire family is going to end up as street people. Oh well, we can cuddle for warmth.

I call a family huddle and insist that no one answer the phone again for 2 days, I can't deal with anything else. In 90 short minutes I went from my fluffy little art school world to this mayhem.

While the fire at the mill was no small weiner roast fire, it didn't end up as disasterous as it could have been, and no one will lose employment.

And the kids leave for work before me in the morning so I get to wake up to fresh brewed coffee. And I come home to the dishes done and put away and supper cooking on the stove. So hey, all's well that end's well.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

1 followed closely by a 2 is a twelve. 12. Twelve. Count 'em.

I was on my way to my painting class this afternoon. I had just enough time to whip into Superstore to pick up a roll of masking tape on the way.

When looking for a fast check-out, I don't just look for the shortest line. I always factor in the age, sex and appearance of the cashier to determine which line I think will move faster. I make my decision and step into the second express checkout. 12 items or less.

Now, I always understood that numbers were sort of universal, and people of all languages could read them. Perhaps I'm wrong.

At first I didn't see the woman's basket in front of me, but when I heard her ask for 4 grocery bags, I took notice. Then I heard the cashier say, "Bear with me, I don't work cash. I normally work at the customer service counter, and I always shudder when I see people with produce." And she had produce. 18 different types. Along with a few packages of pork rind, large can of soy sauce and some boxes of Kleenex. (in a 12 item check-out) And we aren't talking recognizable things like carrots, oranges and potatoes. Noooo. These were all little green curly things and purple flat things and whites balls of stuff. I'd have never even guessed these things were edible.

It was too late to escape. Our Cashier turned her "on" light off and the other lineups had already increased by 4.

I waited as patiently as I could as the cashier leafed through her booklets that should have pictures for incidences such as these, and then watched the woman count her coins to pay for her things.

I paid for my one item and turned and walked away. I caught a glimpse of an other woman unloading her semi-full cart of unrecognizable vegetables onto the express lane I just left. .. the 12 items or less one, with the light off.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Say Please

On his way home from the church the other night, Jed noticed an ambulance and police car at someone's house. Even though he wasn't wearing his stethoscope nor his scrubs, he decided to wheel his bike over and check it out.

I guess the police officer wasn't too impressed with Jed's inquisitive nature. He pointed down the street and emphatically said, "Leave!"

"Not unless you say please," was Jed's reply.

"I don't say please. Just get moving."

At this point Jed figured he'd better comply. He's lucky he didn't get arrested or tasered.


Monday, January 7, 2008

And my gift is...

Last night I was multi-tasking: sitting at my computer and also directing Jed to get ready for bed.

He came an leaned on the back of my computer chair, as he often does just before he pokes a finger in my ear or gives me a whisker rub or some other gesture of affection. Of course leaning on a tilting chair abruptly interrupts my relaxed state and he receives my usual reaction. One I'm sure you can imagine without too much difficulty.

Jed says, "I'm only trying to kiss you goodnight." I allow him to do this, without further comment, and he leaves the room. Momentarily. About 8 seconds later he returns to stand beside my computer.
"Mom, is freaking out a spiritual gift?"
I glance over and see that he is serious.
"Cuz, I think that's your gift. Goodnight." And he was gone.

Now if that doesn't give a mother something to ponder...

Thursday, January 3, 2008

My luxurious spa experience.

A month or so ago I thought, "I think I am possibly the only person in the world who has never owned a Dr Scholls foot bath and then given it away to Value Village or a garage sale. I think I'd like to try one to combat the disgusting sandpaper feet syndrome that occurs every winter."

Knowing full well that this is just a fleeting desire that I am sure will end up at Value Village before long, I did not put it on my Christmas or Birthday wish lists. I feel so guilty discarding something I receive as a gift. And be damned if I'd re-gift such an item.

While heading to the picture frame aisle at Wal-mart the other day, I had to pass the "As Seen On TV" display. Of course everything was 75% off. There on the display was a stack of Dr Scholl's foot Baths - with heat AND bubble action therapy for 9 bucks. Well, if ever there's time to try something you know you aren't going to like for long, this is it.

Yesterday afternoon I was home alone so I chose my massage attachments, placed the mini-pool under my computer desk and filled it with hot water. Too hot. It took a few minutes to manage to keep my feet submersed. I reached my big toe up to press the bubble action button. Gurgle gurgle splash splash bubble. Uh-oh. Now I have to go pee.

Being that this was my virgin foot bath experience, I wasn't wise enough to think about going to the bathroom first. Or bringing a towel. Now here I am 3 rooms away from the bathroom, with wet feet, desperately needing to pee. I slip slide my way to the potty and do my business. I grab a towel from the cabinet, throw it on the floor, step on it with both feet and sort of skate my way back to my computer desk, hoping the towel will sop up all the water I've strewn about.

I sit at my foot spa for 15 minutes or so while I do some facebooking until my feet are like prunes with a coating of pericarp (that's the white crap under an orange peel.) I grabbed my light coloured towel (chosen because I knew I'd be sloughing off skin and didn't want to actually see it) to dry my feet. My light coloured towel was now sort of blackish where I had dragged it across an obviously disgustingly dirty kitchen floor. But it was the only towel I had. I dried my feet and picked up my spa to carry it to the bathroom to empty. It was now resembling a full bed pan as it sloshed around and threatened to splash overboard as I carefully maneuvered it to the bathroom.

So yeah, once again I was glad that I hadn't asked for it as a present cuz it'll be residing on the shelves of Value Village more sooner than later.








Wednesday, January 2, 2008

A dollar!

I resisted entering a store or making an online purchase for the entire Boxing week. Yay me!

New Year's Day I went to Wal-mart. My sole purpose was to pick up a frame for the picture I got of Brandi and Kore swimming with dolphins.

How I ended up in the Christmas aisle on the opposite side of the store is beyond me, but what a score! Every thing was an extra 50% off the already 75% reduced price! They had beautiful poinsettia plants for a dollar. A dollar! I could only fit 20 in my cart so that's all I got.

And I picked up these really funky hanging feather ornaments. They were like 40 cents or something. I don't have a clue what I am going to do with them, but I have 42 of the suckers. I didn't take a picture of them. But trust me, they're cool. In a shiny-red-Liana-sorta way.

Oh, and I remembered to get a picture frame.


I managed to cram them all in my trunk.


Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Happy New Year!

Happy: (adj) delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing that happens.
New Year: (n) the first official day in the Gregorian calendar.

While I do hope that something external occurs on this the first day of the year that pleases you, my wish for you (and equally-so for me) is that the entire year of 2008 will be joyful.

Joy: (n) an emotion evoked by well-being or success.

We've often heard that the word J-O-Y is actually an acronym for Jesus Others You. Living your life in that order, that's what brings internal feelings of well-being and success. But this year I heard an new one and I think it's better:
J-O-Y is actually J-zero-Y. And true joy comes when you have nothing between Jesus and You.

And so I wish consistent joy sprinkled with regular bouts of happiness for you for the next 365 days.