Digs

So yeah. I've moved. This ones gettin' a little tired and long in the tooth. Its not another Mother Nature's Daughter but its got a huge yard and a finished basement.

My Hot New Real Estate (hint, clicky clicky)

On The Road Again

I'm cruisin' through Manitoba tomorrow and I am pretty durn excited about it. I love Manitoba. I don't see enough of Manitoba. And even though the places I'm going tomorrow are all places I've probably been to or driven through, I don't care. I am happy to go see them again. I am driving around with a coworker to see how their day is. We will probably be stopping in at a handful of teeny tiny towns with fabulous little restaurants and horrible burnt coffee. We will accumulate hours of small talk and shop talk and without question weather talk. We'll marvel at the landscape, inspect the landscape, grumble about the landscape and inevitably blame mother nature for the state of the landscape. I'm sure I'll go through my phases of being super wired and chatterboxy in the truck, then quietly observing in the truck, then barely staying awake in the truck, the pretending to listen in the truck, then hopefully back to buzzed and wide awake in the truck. I can sense that I will find a hidden gem tomorrow, perhaps the best BLT in Manitoba or maybe the best place to sit and stare under a tree. Either way, I'm out of the office, on the road and cruisin' through Manitoba tomorrow. And life is good.

The Opposition

So in the past, McK was all over getting her picture taken. She would pose, be patient, let me adjust her, adjust the camera, adjust the scene. She would smile, re-do whatever she had done that I might have missed, all the while happily checking out the final product. But now? I fear I have used up all her patience with me and my cameras. Her willingness to pose is minimal and I can get one or two out of her before she looks away, covers up, or moves around so much they're blurry. Me thinks "disgustingly rich supermodel" is not in her future.

Oh No I Didn't

So. I had a cold all last week. Sick like dog. And I didn't write one whiny post about it!! Not one! I remember seeing my old posts and realizing that when I'm sick, I whine about it and let the world know how sick I am. But not this time. I did not write about my illness, my sniffles, nothing. Ok so I actually didn't write a single post at all, but hey, semantics.

With No Degree of Certainty, Maybe

So today I had just about all I could take of trying to figure out a wee little two thousand dollar step in my budget misery and finally, after exhausting all avenues that I knew of, I went to go see Finance.

Finance is a funny gal. Very proper. Very focused. Not a great sense of humor but a nice personality. Heres the thing about Finance, or what I figured Finance to be. It likes an answer. It likes an answer that makes sense. It likes an answer that has a trail that can lead them back to the beginning of the question and its uniform and concise and has a definite conclusion that MAKES SENSE. My idea of Finance is that they need things to make sense.

So I took my issue to Finance. I was pretty certain I knew what I needed to know. I was pretty certain that I explained myself in a manner that made sense to Finance. So we looked here. We looked there. Finance pulled up screens that showed this and screens that showed that. But nothing that showed the dollar amount I was looking for. We found a dollar amount that was close. Close. Not the same. But close. And Finance figured that must have been it. I made her dig around and even though it clearly showed that the dollars she found went to someone, she said "chances are" that it was "probably" it. That she's "guessing" that thats the money that I'm looking for. And that I could "probably" code it there.

What?

What happened to Finance being precise and correct and not being comfortable with maybe's and probably's and since when is guessing good enough??? I kept digging, finding myself dissatisfied with the maybe's and probably's and figured out where it was. And I let Finance know. And she was cool with that. Probably.

Stress Relief

Today more than one person came to me with their stressful situations. I sometimes wonder if they come to me because I am open-minded, non-judgemental, easy going and able to assess a situation without adding to the stress. Or is it because I end my lengthy advice column with "and then call them all beyotches".

Memory, Or Lack Thereof

Sometimes I wonder if its a girl thing, this whole having a good memory schtick. And I don't mean remembering teensy weensy things versus hugely important things. I mean, in general.

Tonight I went to get us Subway for dinner. My instruction from Pat? "That new one from the commercial". Thats it. Thats what I had to go on. Yet I knew exactly what to get. Chipotle Southwest Steak and Cheese. And what does he have on it, you ask? I have that one down pat, regardless of the fact that he orders something different every time I go. Now heres the funny thing. Me? I always, ALWAYS, get turkey breast with the following: no cheese, tiny bit of mayo, lettuce, green pepper, onion and a dash of pepper. Its a small order, not entirely complicated, never wavering. But do you think I could simply say to Pat, "I'll have my usual" and get what I normally have? Oh hell no.

I can even simplify this one step further. Lets take Tim Hortons for example. I generally opt to "eat in" when we go if Pat's driving just to avoid the unavoidable stress that will come if he needs to place our order in the drive thru. You see, its complicated, this order of mine. Lately its been ok as I have been getting the exact same thing as him but a few months back? Stress. Pat would order himself an everything bagel, toasted with plain cream cheese. He had McK's order down pretty solid. Plain bagel, not toasted, plain cream cheese. Now heres where it gets really complicated. I would ask for an everything bagel, just like pats, toasted, just like pats, but with butter, no cream cheese. And that is where it went horribly wrong, time and time again. I can't count the number of times I would end up with cream cheese on my bagel, which I refuse to eat. (side note: cheese is not meant to be spreadable. Peanut butter, yes. Margarine, yes. Cheese, no. Cheese is meant to be in a big block of orange goodness. But I digress.)

So is it a female vs male thing? Am I just better at remembering than he is? I have our chinese food order tucked away up there, our pizza order safely stored, his chicken preferences (all ribs even if it costs more), I even have noted the new found love for Wendy's chili. So why then, is it so hard for him to remember medium TRIPLE TRIPLE. Ugh. Men.

Me In 2026

This will be me, in 2026, in the Canadian version. Only I will have a bullhorn and will be borderline obnoxious.

Olympic Withdrawl. Major Heavy.

So the Olympics are over. I came home from work and didn't have to fight with mck for the remote. I didn't have to park myself on the couch and cook supper looking over my shoulder so as not to miss anything. There were no highlights of the day of goodies I may have missed. There were no montages of our athletes winning and shining. There was nothing. And I am going through a little withdrawl.

I almost forgot what I did every evening pre Feb 12. I took mck shopping to get over it. It helped a little.

I wonder if I loved the Olympics as much as I did because they were in Canada. But I'm not sure thats it. I think no matter where we would have competed, we are always considered the underdogs. I was just really ready to cheer for Canada. Really ready. I liked the Opening Ceremonies, glitches and all. I liked the Closing Ceremonies, kitschy and all. I liked that we won the most gold medals, not only this year but in history. I liked it all. And I wish they were still on.

Clunk

With all of the advances in technology and engineering etc going on constantly in the world, why on earth does it still make such a prehistoric racket when planes let down their landing gear? Guaranteed that first-time flyers shit their pants every time it happens. You'd think they'd have found a quieter, smoother mechanism by now. No? Just me?

Almost, But Not Quite

I visited my friend Jaclyn last night. Or rather, I sat in silence for about an hour and a half on her couch last night. No, we were not watching the Olympics, though they were on. No. We sat there, staring, at the newest bundle of joy in our worlds.


Ocassionally, I would feel bad and every once in awhile would try to break the spell and start a conversation with her but always found myself drifting off, staring into the pools of dark, dark blue that are his eyes, so blue they're almost navy. I stared at this creation, this beautiful boy that was just two weeks ago in the belly of my friend sitting on the other couch and I marvelled at that.


I could not remember. I could not remember McK ever being so tiny, so light, so delicate. I could not remember what that felt like. And part of me was sad, that little mothering part who loves newborns and wee babes and tiny sleepers and fuzzy heads and that soft, soft, EVER so soft spot right at the nape of their neck. I miss that. Not enough to have another one, mind you. Almost, but not quite. :)

Compulsion

Why is it, that EVERY time someone comments or compliments me on what I have on or a piece of jewelery or something I have, I compulsively tell them where I got it. Especially if its at a place you wouldn't think. Or if it was super cheap. I NEED to tell them how much it was. Am I weird?

Take the other day. I had on my black boots. They look nice, stylish, like boots you could get at a fancy shoe store. Someone commented on them, "Great boots!". My reply? "Thanks! Giant Tiger!" Whats up with that? Why can't I just say Thanks! And then zip it?

Today, someone commented on my pants. "Thanks, they were $2.99!" Seriously? I just told you I paid less for my pants than for a Big Mac? Why do I feel the need to do this? Is it because I'm not a showy person, I'm not flashy or fancy in any way shape or form so I justify any new purchases with the fact that I didn't pay that much for them? I do love the fact that I always find a good bargain and rarely pay full price for much but why the need to tell the world about my incredible savings?

How to Keep a 6 Year Old Busy for an Hour

The One Where the Videographer Bites It

End of the Trail. Start of the Rapids.

A Walk in the Woods

Yesterday we went to the Whiteshell. It felt like we hadn't been there forever. And yet, once we started walking, I remembered every turn, every sight, every part of the trail that let me know how far there was to go or how far we had already gone.

I could hear the wind. I heard it in the treetops dancing, whispering secrets, telling tales. "Just look at these three", it must have said up there, "Walking in the woods on a winters day. Searching for that spot where they won't feel us. No wind, only sun."

We found it. That spot with no wind, only sun. On a cold, cold winters day. In the middle of the woods. By a rushing river. Its always out there. Sometimes you just need to take a walk in the woods on a winters day to find it.

Pine Point. Valentines Day. Love. Perfect.

Our Trip Down

One Tired Kitty

On the drive home after being in the sun and wind and snow for four hours. Shes a tobogganing fiend.

A Little Breath of Fresh Air

Today we went to Birds Hill Park and played outside. Top of the hill? Windswept and chilly. In the trees making a fire? Cool but calm. On the south side of the trees? Virtual tanning bed. That is where we made ourselves at home. Sitting in the snow, the sun beating down with a thousand watts, hearing the wind on the other side but not having to invite it to our party. It was perfect.