City Girl

So the season premiere of the City was on tonight and much like the Hills, I'm not yet entirely sure who I like.

Of course I love Whitney, even if she IS way too nice for her own good. Sometimes you gotta just learn to say no to people. I hope she figures that out this season, for her own sanity.

I was very glad that I caught the opening sequence that sort of explained where everyone went. If you missed that you might have wondered what the F was going on.

So Olivia. Good old Olivia. Finally. Someone who is not afraid to shut you down. I am not sure if I like Erin yet because she seems to have a bit of a negative attitude but maybe it just comes out because she can sense the idiocy in Olivia. And I love her solely based on the fact that she will basically tell Olivia to go screw herself. An admirable quality to be sure.

Roxy. Hmmm. Thus far, me no likey. I don't like two faced people. Pretty simple. She has no respect for other people, especially Whitney who has helped her tremendously. Regardless of the fact that she did admit to tying a rhinestone belt around a planter, the attitude and poorly covered nastiness needs to go. Her mom is Holly from Brother and Sisters. I wonder if she's proud.

No men have really surfaced yet. Jay and Adam have gone. They were both kind of doorknobs. Though attractive doorknobs to be sure. But the season ahead looks to be full of 'em.

I just can't WAIT till Roxy pisses off Kelly Cutrone. Now THAT?? THAT will be a throw down of epic proportions.

Disclaimer: I am a Reality Show Junkie, Deal With It

So the new season of the Hills started tonight. I'm not sure who I like anymore! I'm a die hard Justin Bobby fan but sweetheart, that HAIR! I didn't mind it all shaggy but under that hat and on that date?!? Chop it. Brody is fast becoming a non-issue and needs to step it up a bit or get more screen time. I think the admiration for him used to stem from his friendship with LC. Now that element is gone so I wonder if he'll fade? I used to hate Lo. Now she's the most sane person on the show. Not sure if that means I like her or if that means she'll become boring quickly. Audrina? Ummm. Hmm. A mind of your own needs to start surfacing. Heidi and Spencer are just ridiculous. While certainly not the bible thumpers they were on I'm a Celebrity Get Me Outta Here, they're still obnoxious and annoying. Although Spencer still has a few zingers that make me chuckle. Heidi still lives on her own planet. Stephanie. Oh my. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! That's all I need to say about that dumb tit. Quit freakin meddling. And Kristin. Dear Kristin. Oddly enough I think I like you. Based on the seasons preview I do not think I like your player status or what I think you do to JB, but you take no shit. And I can relate.

Spread Sheetin'

I have been tasked with collecting inventory data (glamorous, I know) and compiling said data and inputting said data into a spreadsheet (you're jealous now, right?). I am generally "ok" with spreadsheets. I can figure out a formula. I can usually make things work out. The other week I even went so far as to say I "organized the shit out of a spreadsheet". So this task I have been given, while a little mind numbing, didn't really phase me.

Today I began to work on it. A few of the inventory sheets came in and I thought I'd be all proactive and get the data entered. I opened one sheet. Didn't look right. I opened another sheet. Already populated. Hmmm. This wasn't making sense. I fiddled. I toyed with the idea of clearing cells. I saved an alternate version of the same file in case my fiddling made things, oh I don't know, worse. I futskied around with that bullshit data for an hour trying to remember/figure out where it was to be stored and, like a man who does not ant to ask for directions but HAS to, I went and asked the question.

"Does the data go in THIS sheet or THAT one?"

"Neither", was the reply.

Oh. Now it all makes sense. I couldn't find where to enter the friggin numbers because I didn't have the new frigging sheet yet. Hey look! Turns out I'm not a moron after all.

Oh The Things I Learned Today

Sometimes, just because you have to wait fifteen minutes for your bill, does not mean that you magically have room for dessert and should order some.

Sometimes, when you ask a waitress what flavor the white cake is and she says "white", you maybe shouldn't order it.

Sometimes, its ok to be in a parking lot, out of your car, almost in the restaurant and decide to turn around and go somwhere else simply because you feel guilty that its fast food.

Sometimes, you'll end up eating stuff for lunch that's probably worse for you than the fast food but it doesn't seem as bad because its from an actual restaurant.

Sometimes, a three hour policy review meeting really DOES take three hours, regardless of how many times people say "oh it won't go THAT long".

Sometimes I don't read people as well as I think I do.

Sometimes I can go from being at the bottom of her list to the top when I save her day by going to buy a hat so she can be a part of hat day when we totally forgot to bring one from home.

Sometimes cake isn't all its cracked up to be.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is get out of the way.

Sometimes, all you have to do to get two kids to fall asleep is be there and be quiet.

Sometimes, talking about farts and poop with a pregnant woman will very nearly make her throw up.

Sometimes, even sunshine can't warm a room.

Sometimes, I feel out of the loop.

Sometimes, when you have a good laugh, you know the kind, three hour meetings just fly by.

Sometimes, seeing other peoples new tattos makes me think about the one I've been mulling over.

Sometimes, watching two little ones sleep, make everything good in my world.

Why Are You On The Road?

Was today National Bad Driver day and no one told me about it? Cuz if anyone had brought it to my attention I would have just stayed the hell home.

Dear Cyclist,
I know the whole deal about how cyclists have every right to be on the road and how technically we actually have the right to take up an entire lane if we want to. But newsflash dipshit. We DON'T actually do that. We try to overcome the car-bike love-hate relationship by taking up as little space as is safe. So when I see you pedaling your fat ass in the middle of a lane for no reason, I get a touch irritated. THAT is why people in cars hate us. Have some common sense. I'm happy to get out of your way when you're happy to get out of mine. Obnoxious fuck.

Dear Lady in Nissan,
You need to march right down to a BMW dealership and borrow one for a day because CLEARLY no one ever taught you how to merge and the pick up of a Beemer will make the worst merger a confident part of driving society. I get the lingering around the yeild sign when there's no real merge lane to speak of. But when the merge lane we had extends for a good two city blocks, start driving your goddamn car in it so that you can get to speed and merge in with the flow of traffic. That's why its called MERGING.

Dear Old Man with Hat,
I dig your caution, I really do. I like that you take the time to be aware of your surroundings. Its better than a 75 year old driving like a rally driver. But seriously dude, passing lane is for passing. Not for driving 60 in a 100 zone. You made me beat up my steering wheel. You made me curse out loud. Multiple times. You made me wish I was driving a shitbox car because I seriously contemplated ramming into you with no concern for your well being whatsoever.

Dear Punk Ass Bitch,
You and your souped up ball of tacky on wheels is not impressive to me. Gunning it beside me at lights just makes me want to turn my steering wheel to the right and tromp your little toy car with my Jeep. Your gangsta rap that's pouring out your windows with so much base that the ground moves and you can't understand a lick of the lyrics makes me want to lock you in a room with Kenny G and watch you through a window and point and laugh while your ears bleed.

Dear Mr. Middle Age,
Wearing a golf shirt and a baseball cap in your wee little sports car convertible doesn't make you look young. Its makes you look like you're having a midlife crisis and she's forgiven you for the affair. Oh and by the by, driving a convertible sports car doesn't automatically make one assume you're loaded. It oftentimes just makes one think you are a poor decision maker with bad judgement and if its a Corvette, bad taste in cars.

There. Road rage out, deep breath in.

Things Left Unsaid

I haven't done one of these posts for awhile. Normally after I do one I get all kinds of emails asking if number so-and-so was about them. Chances are, it just might be but I'm not gonna tell you. And for those of you who have not yet seen one of these on here, the gist is its all stuff I'd like to say but for whatever reason, can't.

1) I'd feel for you if you weren't so dramatic and annoying. But as it stands, I can't bring myself to care very much, even with such a huge thing going on in your life right now.

2) You deserve so much more than what you have. SO much more. Stop giving until you get SOMETHING in return.

3) I'm sorry my efforts have been so slack lately. I promise to improve dramatically because you're important to me.

4) Stop emailing me. I don't want to go for lunch. But I probably will because I'm bad at getting rid of annoying persistent people.

5) I'm so glad we met. I sometimes think about the flukiness of it all and often think that if we hadn't done that one thing together I probably wouldn't know you and that bums me out to no end. But we did so its all good.

6) You're a lot nicer than I thought you'd be. I'm glad I decided to find out on my own rather than let other peoples opinions cloud my judgement. And I'll even admit, sometimes you're actually funny.

7) Oh hey, FYI, you don't know everything. Just thought I'd let you know. And one more thing, no one cares about how you raised your kids.

8) Because you're too messed up to know or care, I just thought I'd let you know that we've all talked about how we need to start coming to grips with you not being here much longer. Get your shit together. Is that SERIOUSLY what you want people thinking.
9) Judging by all the evidence provided, maybe its YOU.

10) I avoid you because your stories go on and on and on. If you could just fix that I'm sure we'd probably be pretty good friends cuz other than that I have no problem with you.

Turns Out They're ALL Scary

I had an emergency phone call the other day. "I have a princess question and you're the only one who can help me!" And suddenly a pink tiara lit up the sky.

I called back today and the question was posed. "Out of all of the princess movies, which is the least scary?". Turns out my pal Jen has a princess-happy 3 year old thanks in part to the introduction from my princess-obsessed 6 year old, their time together, and Em's interest in whatever mck does or has that's pink and pretty. And so we got to discussing them all. And our verdict? They're all pretty freakin scary.

The breakdown:

Cinderella - at first I said somewhat harmless until Jen pointed out that the stepmother is a "mean mommy" and we remembered that the real mom dies and the cat is evil and tries to kill the mice. For a little girl who is in full on cling-to-mommy mode, a dead mom is as bad as an evil stepmom.

Snow White - that freakshow witch who becomes all gross-old-lady-like in the woods with the big wart on her nose and the spooky trees in the forest. Never mind the freakshow "little people" men all living together in a shack in the woods. What is UP with that?

Sleeping Beauty - I don't remember the witches name but not only is she scary looking but she "kills" the chick on her 16 birthday or something to that effect and then abducts her from her family. See above mentioned mommy-clingy-three-year-old. Not good.

Beauty and the Beast - while the Beast isn't inherently "evil", he flies into a rage or two of epic proportions. And those wolves? That forest? Yeah. Not just yet.

Little Mermaid - mean underwater gross looking octopus lady steals a beautiful girls voice. Add to that her two eel henchmen and you have a nightmare.

Alladin - while it was close to being a safe bet, I remembered the crazy old guy who tries to kill Alladin. I know he doesn't have a lot of screen time but Jafar is just a meany-pants. And considering this 3 year old was afraid of the old guy who was mean to Oscar in the movie Grouchland, Jafar probably isn't the best dude to have her start out with.

Pocahontas - does anyone even remember this movie? I don't.

Mulan - much like Pocahontas, its barely sneaks in to the princess movie category.

So as you see, disney has a bit of a nasty streak. And considering the meanest character this sweet little 3 year old has seen is Dora's nemesis Swiper, I think the authentic disney princess movies shall wait.

Swiper no swiping!

Good Things, Brought to You By Today

Walking through Dollarama with my 6 year old and watching her find exactly what she was looking for.

Watching her figure out getting from one end of the monkey bars to the other in her own unique way, of course.
Sitting in the seats at the horse races explaining to her how fancy and busy it used to be there.

Watching her fill out and sign her own card for Grandpa's birthday. Instead of his name on the front she drew a cat.

Realizing that her top three fave tunes right now are sung by Michael Buble, the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Snow Patrol.

Watching her eat almost as much pizza as me (toppings scraped off, naturally, but STILL!)

Seeing her face as she realized, while we waded in the lake after dinner, that I didn't really care if she got her dress wet. She was up to her neck in record speed. Thank goodness for the hoodie I keep in the car.

Driving home in the dark after a lovely evening in the country, my head on her shoulder, her head resting on mine, both of us singing along to our CD.

Tucking her in to bed knowing she'd be asleep in minutes.

A snapshot of our day.

How Not to Make Money

Today I was out of the office on a road trip of sorts. It was work related but involved some of my favorite people so it was like a mini-holiday disguised as work.

Trips like this usually involve treats, like all good road trips do. So our plan of attack quickly became finding a milkshake on our drive back to the city. While I kept my eyes open for police cars, my colleague kept her eyes open for potential locales where we might perhaps find Manitoba's best milkshake (currently at the Capricorn in Notre Dame de Lourdes).

We decided that as we took Highway 1, our best option would be Headingly Grill. Nicks Inn was our first choice but they don't take plastic so HG became numero uno. We went in. We ordered. We waited. She presented us with the finished product. And we went to pay.

My colleague said it was her treat. Why thank you, I said. So she handed over her credit card. Swipe after swipe, nothing happened. Machine said the card had no track. Ok. Odd but fine. She offered up her debit card. Same deal. Old machine, the waitress said. Finicky. Hm. She went to ask the guys in the kitchen if they knew how to make it work. No, they said. Not at all. So she called someone. They told her to try her own card. It was about this time that my pal muttered under her breath, "don't offer to pay, don't offer to pay". We both came to the realization as we stood there sucking back the vanilla goodness, that these icy babies were gonna be on the house.

So turns out the waitresses own card worked. Well, not really our problem. We tried. I lied and said all I had was my work card and I couldn't use it. The woman looked incredibly confused. It was right about then that most people would just reverse it out of the till and call it a freebie. But instead, she asked if we came there often. Ummmmmm. We lied and told her every couple of weeks or so. Could we just remember to pay for it then, she asked? Ummmmmm. We lied and told her OF COURSE. She closed out our sale and handed my friend her reciept with a note on the back for the imaginary waitress that we would imaginarily give this to the next time we imagined we'd drop in that said "ask Gina about this". We both kind of thought that maybe it should have been Gina who kept the reciept but whatever. Gina then pulled out a piece of blank till tape and wrote "will drive by in this month to pay - Jaclyn". No last name. No phone number. No credit card digits. Just the promise of a girl named Jaclyn who would, one day this month, swing by for a bit to eat and cover the loss of two milkshakes.

By the time this was all over I had finished my milkshake. We walked out to the car and my friend looked at me and said, "Dammit". What, I asked her. "If I'd have known that was going to happen I would have ordered chicken fingers too!".

Today in the Alphabet

Ate lunch with an old pal who I need to be more in touch with.

Became focused when booking 8 flights and getting approval for 7 more so as not to screw them up.

Caught an error the travel agent made which would have sent two of my guys to the wrong city on the wrong day.

Dropped my phone, twice.

Entered data. Woo. Hoo.

Found the gift card I needed to send away three weeks ago.

Griped to a girlfriend about a grumpy gus.

Hounded a rep till he wrote with his choice.

Instilled confidence in my girl as she read me a bed time story.

Joked with my boss. Big step.

Kissed my girl repeatedly as she grew tired in the chair.

Laughed with a friend, one who always guarantees a smile.

Made perogies for supper. Oh my delicious.

Needed a milkshake. Had one. Best in Winnipeg.

Opened a document that I had no idea how to open. Turns out I did.

Perused a running website to find a race for me and my sister. No luck yet.

Quetly got ready for the day as my sleepy girl still dozed.
Read a couple of more articles in my new mag. Stretching it out to last all week.

Sang a rock and roll ballad upon request at the kids bedtime.

Thought about trying sushi. Just might do it. So far, just a thought.

Underestimated how tired I am.
Very tired.

Went the long way round on my way back from lunch. Such a pretty area.

Xtreme skater Ron Dyrdeks Fantasy Factory was on. Always a good time. (Yes, that was a cheat).

Yelled at only 3 other drivers today. They were all merge morons. They deserved it.

Zipped and then unzipped a new blog template for another blog. Worked but only partially. Looks amazing but there's no where to log in and actually post anything. Back at er again tomorrow.

Now I know my ABC's, next time won't you recount your day with me?

Missing

We are two weeks away from moving in to our new house. This is exciting on a bunch of levels. I will have my own bathroom (especially important in the mornings). I will have a closet with room to spare (until I fill it up). I will have a garage in which to park my car right beside the door, the door where I can bring ALL my groceries in in as many short and sweet little trips as I like. I will have a quiet deck with a quiet view and a quiet balcony on which to quietly read my books. All of my things will be where I am; my bike, my backpacking gear, my knick knacks, my books, my photos. All unpacked and with me. But while there is much to look forward to I recognize that there are things I will miss about this place, this sweet little apartment that has served us so well.

Hmmm. K. It'll come to me. Just let me think on it for a second.

Oh! I'll miss the heated underground parking that allowed me to not even put a jacket on in the winter until I got to work. And I'll miss the free swimming. And the proximity of the IGA and the Hallmark store. I will even miss all the old people who adore mck so much and just want someone to talk to.

So while I'm drinking my coffee in my rocking chair on my front porch watching my baby girl play with her new pal across the street, I'll think of this place with fondness and good memories. I'll probably block out the part where the overhead door crashed down on the brand new Jeep. Whatever. It was just the one time.

This is Where The Effort Goes In

A week or so ago I sold one of our old mountain bikes. A friend at work had just had his stolen and remembered my email from way back when trying to get rid of two. Were they still for sale he asked. Indeed. Would I take a gift certificate instead of cash he asked. Indeed.

Turns out the certificate was for the Running Room. Hmm. Perhaps this was the motivation I needed to get back to running, a past time that I left behind when the snow melted.

Today I went there, to that store full of polyester and lycra, sport beans and energy bars, wicking socks and wicked runners. I stood there, looking at the wall of shame, trying to remember why I stopped running, trying to rationalize my belief that 6am was too early to get up and run and 8pm was too late. And with all of those shoes staring at me I realized, it wasn't time stopping me. It was ME stopping me.

It was at THAT moment that I decided to throw away my lazy pants and put on the responsible-take-better-care-of-myself pants. I had a whipper snapper of a sales gal who sold me the first pair of sneaks she brought out. She was JUST THAT GOOD. They were lovely. They were comfortable. They were made just for me. And they were exactly the amount my gift certificate was for.

I told my sister about them and we renewed our commitment to kicking each others asses into gear when we got slack and decided to find a race we could meet up at. I'm excited again. I want to run again. I want to sweat and breathe hard and feel my chest burn again. I want to find trails that no one knows of and scout routes that no ones thought of. I want to hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Who knew a barter, a trade of two items neither person wanted any longer, would do that?

Tomorrow it begins. Just me, my well fitting shoes, and he ground beneath me keeping time. Off I go.

Pick and Choose

My mom used to save a bunch of our stuff from our school years when we were younger. A picture of this, a story about that. Odds and sods that she found worthy of hanging on to. I think as the years have gone by and the space has gotten smaller, the items have been weaned through and the pile of adorable things I did on paper has gotten smaller. And fair enough.

When McK finished kindergarten I expected some of her more stellar works to make their way home to me. Today I sifted through it. It was a years worth of work. All of it. Every scrap of paper she scrawled her name on. Every heart or flower she drew. Really? Teach? You didn't want to keep any of it? Or throw it away for us so we wouldn't have to be riddled with guilt and end up keeping every paper where she repeated letters of the alphabet? Sigh. Fine. I'll do the dirty work.

Sorting through the mass of creation was easier than I though. The really cute, brilliant stuff was in THIS pile, and the repetetive math-y boring stuff was in THAT pile. I was making good headway through her SECOND BINDER (not to be confused with the file folder full of stuff or the large brown paper grocery bag full of more precious stuff) and she walked in. What was I doing, she asked. Well. I think the idea of some of her "stuff" ending up in the garbage would put her in the hospital. So I lied.

"One pile is of stuff I am going to pack away safe for the new house. And the other is stuff I want to keep out so I can look at it ALL THE TIME". I think she believed me. My "keep" pile is pretty small. But I am trying to only save the really precious pieces. The "to-go" bag, AKA the stuff I'll "pack", is sitting by the wall. I didn't dare throw it out yet. Its still fresh in her steel trap mind. The toss out will have to be stealthy and smooth.

You see, not only does she have a solid gold memory, but she keeps EVERYTHING. And combined, she remembers EVERYTHING that she keeps. She keeps the plastic hangy thing that holds a price tang on an item of clothing. She keeps the twist ties from the produce section in the grocery store, ESPECIALLY if she's made a decoration out of them. So to SEE her work, and KNOW its there, and have FIRST HAND KNOWLEDGE of where both piles are currently stashed? Well. I'm pretty much screwed.

Fight Night

I have been arguing with my six year old like she's 17 and I won't let her use the car. Really? This is what I have to look forward to for the next 12 years? Apparently she's "just like me". But I don't think I'm THAT obnoxious. Surely.

The Head Cheese

Today I had to order some business cards for my new boss at work. I have also ordered them for all of my crew which has proven to be time consuming as their role title has changed a time or two in the past week or so. Regardless, ordering was done.
After getting clarification from my boss on his title, I placed his order. A few minutes later, after he chatted with a fellow big wig, he returned and said he'd need a second box. Uh oh, I thought, name change again. No, no, he assured me, it was in addition to the ones already ordered. Ok. Cool. So I asked what would be different about these ones and he looked a little sheepish when he said,"They have to say president on them". Well. That was my cue. "Oh!! Oh!! Can I call you Mr. President?? Please!?". "No", he said. He followed it up with, "I told my wife that she was going to have to call me that and she said not a chance. Though she DID say maybe on my birthday". Too funny.

Derby Girls

Tonight my pal Ali and I went to observe a Roller Derby practice. Neither of us really knew what we would be watching or what to expect but we went with an excited nervous energy and high hopes.

We walked into the gym and saw all types of women, all shapes and sizes, all with clearly different fitness levels. But they ALL had one thing in common. Little pleated skirts and fishnet stockings. Oh yeah. We were smack dab in the middle of Derby-land.

Turns out the skirts are perfect for flexibility in movement and the stockings save your thighs from serious floor burn. As one woman said,"If you're not wearing stockings or leggings, when you fall, your thighs stick to the floor and the rest of you keeps going".

Anywho. We watched the ladies do a series of drills not unlike the basketball practices I endured from years gone by. They did practice falls and practice drops and drill after timed drill. Yet somehow, it was not intimidating. Then for the last 45 minutes they got into the oval.

This was an oval marked out on the gym floor with stickies and we watched them circle around. Slowly it dawned on me what they were doing and how it all made sense. It was fascinating to watch. The falls were impressive but as hard as you fall and as much as you may want to stay down and writhe in pain, there is a three second rule. Get up or get a penalty. Yikes.

So after much chitty chat and words of encouragement from the girls, we left, excited but unsure, wanting to be a part of the derby world. There was such an old school quality to it. It was honestly like something out of an old movie. And me? Well. I think I'd like a part in that flick.

In Two Words

Apparently all responses must be two words: (also known as a quick way to get out of doing a real post!!)

1. Where is your cell phone? TABLE TOP
2. Your hair? NON COLORED
3. Your mother? VERY OPINIONATED
4. Your father? FAR AWAY
5. Your favorite food? MOMS QUICHE
6. Your dream last night? NON EXISTENT
7. Your favorite drink? COCA COLA
8. Your dream/goal? MUCH TRAVEL
9. What room are you in? LIVING ROOM
10. Your hobby? ABSORBED READING
11. Your fear? WORK EMBARASSMENT
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? SAME HOUSE
13. Where were you last night? MY APARTMENT
14. Something that you aren’t? VERY SHY
15. Muffins? MORNINGS ONLY
16. Wish list item? TRAIL RUNNERS
17. Where did you grow up? WINNIPEG, MANITOBA
18. Last thing you did? GOT GROCERIES
19. What are you wearing? ALL CASUAL
20. Your TV? BIG ENOUGH
21. Your pets? ALL GONE
22. Friends? GROWING IMPORTANCE
23. Your life? PRETTY GOOD
24. Your mood? NERVOUS EXCITEMENT
25. Missing someone? USUALLY YES
26. Vehicle? SUZUKI SX4
27. Something you’re not wearing? COZY FLEECE
28. Your favorite store? WILDERNESS SUPPLY
29. Your favorite color? BRIGHT RED
30. When was the last time you laughed? EARLIER TODAY
31. Last time you cried? WATCHING MENTALIST
32. Your best friend? VERY IMPORTANT
33. One place that I go to over and over? MY IGA
34. One person who emails me regularly? MY COLLEAGUES
35. Favorite place to eat? CLAY OVEN

Desperately Seeking Ariel

Mck starts school tomorrow. She kind of has a backpack for this but we both had something else in mind. Now I'd like to just interject here and state for the record that her favorite princess is subject to change at any given moment.
So its last week. I'm at the store getting a few of her last supplies. I see a backpack. Its a doozy. Its the pack, a lunch kit attached and a pencil case-y thing, also attached. I pick it up. Its on sale. There is just one princess on it. Ariel. I have a moment of panic. Is that the one? Is that her fave right now? Will this pass muster? Do I have time in my week to deal with returning this if suddenly Cinderella is at the top of the leader board?

I walk around with it in my hand. I check the clothes. I peruse the groceries. I peek at shoes. I wander and scan the price to get the sale digits. I weighed out the value of my purchases. And then I put it down. I PUT IT DOWN. I put the backpack down. Not accidentally. On purpose. I will check with her first before buying it to make sure Ariel is the princess of the moment and then I will pop back to get it. The Ariel backpack. The last one. The one with the lunch kit and the pencil case. The last Ariel one with the lunch kit and the pencil case that is ON SALE. Oh sure, it'll be here tomorrow.

So. Um. About that backpack. Turns out it was EXACTLY WHAT MCK HAS ALWAYS WANTED. Ok. Good to know. I will go get it. I venture back there today. Wait a minute. Things look different. Where did the aisles go? Where are the rows and rows of school supplies and BACKPACKS??? Moved, gone, safely in the bedrooms of children who's parents must REALLY love them. Love them enough to get them that perfect Ariel backpack with the lunch kit and the pencil case. You know, the one that was ON SALE.

So I wandered. I looked everywhere. I found one with the 5 main princesses on it. Would that do? Would it be ok to get just a basic pack now that I've talked up the other one? Ariel was on this one but so were 4 other princesses. I hemmed. I hawed. And then I PUT IT DOWN. Sometimes I learn my lessons well. And sometimes? It takes a time or two.

I thought I might have success elsewhere. Not so much. After three more stores I hung out the white flag. So in a last ditch effort I took mck to a different store this eve with no hopes and a game plan in the wings to convince her that something else would be SO MUCH BETTER than some lame-o Ariel backpack. And there, amongst the smattering of backpacks strewn about, standing alone like the kid chosen last in gym class, was the second pack, the one with all the beyotches on there. And she? Fell. In. Love.

Can I just say it? Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. There.

The Torso-less Doll

So McK has this doll thing. Its not really a doll. Its more like a half doll where the intent is really to do the dolls hair. Its the top half of a doll, complete with arms, and cut off at the waist.

Its hair is long and black and scraggly. It is parted in the middle and hangs directly in her face, a la the flick The Ring. I suggested to McK that in an effort to lose the whole scary kid in a horror movie look she might want to consider giving the demon doll some bangs.

No matter the color or glitter applied to the demon dolls hair, it still just hangs there, limp, greasy looking, parted right down the centre. It looks like all of a sudden her head will spontaneously begin to spin around or her eyes will start to follow you around a room, the tiny slivers of them you can actually SEE behind the stringy hair.

I would not be surprised to be all alone in the apartment and then hear a quiet little, "hellooooo Charlotte" from where she sits, perched atop the kitchen table.

Everytime Pat walked into whatever room the freak doll was in he would jump and think someone was there. He finally had to stick it in mcks room with her other toys. She caught wind of this and we now, admittedly with a little evil behind our plot, place her in rather strategic places where we know we'll get a good bang for our "let's use scary looking kids to sell a horror flick" buck.

Today, when Pat was sitting on his bed looking over his newly repaired camera and not paying us any mind, we placed it in the doorway, set it in a location where you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched, and just waited. A few moments later, success.

This evening it sat on the pile of boxes in the hallway so whether you left a bedroom or the bathroom you were confronted with her nasty face staring you down. He actually picked it up and said "that thing is going to scare the life out of me every time I leave the room" and moved it somewhere else.

I don't know where he put her. Part of me wants to set it on his side table tonight, angled so that she is looking directly at him, just to see what happens. The other part of me wants to go and cut some freaking bangs in her hair so her cute little dolly face can show rather than leaving to my imagination the scars and blood and evil grin I see behind the curtain of horrible hair everytime I look at her.

I think I'm gonna go see where she's at. You know, just in case I have to get up for a glass of water or something tonight. But its not that I'm scared or anything. I just, um, you know, wouldn't want to trip over it or break it or stab it repeatedly in the face by accident.

Shhhhh. Her eyes may be covered with a greasy mop but she HEARS EVERYTHING.

McK Right Now

Right now mck is asleep in her bed, staying true to her side-sleeping persona, one foot tucked behind the opposite knee.

Right now mck's freshly washed hair is piled atop her head with a swoop across her forhead that makes her look like Audrey Hepburn.

Right now mck is completely uncovered and probably getting colder and colder until she wakes up at four in the morning and asks me to tuck her in. When she does this I am never groggy. In fact, I honestly believe I wake up a second before she needs me.

Right now mck has princess dresses strewn about on the floor all around her bed, a moat of satin and toile.

Right now mck is half awake, lightly sweeping up and down her arms. I'm guessing her next move will be a real good scratch.

Right now mck just turned over and is buried in a pile of stuffed animals, all of whom are placed in their specific spots everynight before anyone else can actually lie down.

Right now mck has drifted back off to sleep, dreaming of the scooter that she mastered today, the swimming that she rocked today, the games that she played today, and the adventures she will have tomorrow.

School Daze

Mck starts school on Thursday. I have been getting all of her school supplies in order for her and have a meeting with her teacher on Tuesday night. She was told to get certain items that would be kept in her desk. In her desk, people. This is some seriously heavy school shit!

For the last two years she has been a school kid. First, spending three days a week, half days in a pre-kindergarten program. She sat at random tables for snack and that was it. Then she was in half days all week for kindergarten where she sat at random tables for crafts and snacks and that was it. And now? My girl gets her own DESK.

I remember having to choose a desk. It was a much deliberated topic pre-start and a mad rush for the intended seat when the doors opened. Sometimes the desks were assigned. Sometimes they were paired side by side. Sometimes you got lucky and sometimes you got stuck by Kelly who used to pick her nose and save the boogers on her clear plastic ruler. When old enough, plans were made to ensure you were within ogling distance of that hot guy, you know, HIM.

I don't know how her desk location will be assigned. I just know the fact that she is even getting assigned a desk means my wee babe is not so wee anymore.

Club Z

I went to Zellers today. I honestly don't know how it stays open but I digress. Today at Zellers I saw some interesting folk.

There was a very animated, somewhat jewish looking lady going on and on to a very uninterested and somewhat embarrassed looking asian lady about how she planned her escape and subsequent divorce while her other half was away in Manilla. She took things from the house bit by bit and stashed it in a girlfriends garage so when the time came she would have everyting she needed. Her friend just nodded and looked like she wanted to be anywhere but at Zellers, at that moment in time.

Then there was the purse lady. As I perused the school supplies I noticed an unattended cart complete with purse. I thought it was the elderly lady browsing through scissors and white glue with me and thought nothing of it. Until I saw her. Fat ass all jiggling as she attempted to run, hollaring about the cart with her purse in it and how she thought little bobby so and so had it. She could have sworn that he was pushing the cart. "He"? Was about 4 years old. She came a-trotting and voila, there was the cart and the purse. I guess every once in awhile its a good thing that Zellers is always virtually empty. But the best part was the husband. A little, um, rough around the edges. He let everyone within ear shot know what he thought of her. Amusing and awkward at the same time. Apparently, she JUST DOESN'T THINK and THATS THE PROBLEM. Oh really? THAT'S your problem? Honey. I think its deeper than that.

An old lady smiled at me while I tried on shoes. Not creepy. I smiled back. I often wonder if you make a seniors day simply by smiling back at them. I think you probably do.
I saw a dad and his probably 10 year old girl in the clothes section. If ever a man looked lost, it was today in Zellers.

You know when they come on the loud speaker and announce that if you go REAL FAST and get to the MYSTERY SPOT RIGHT NOW you will get a free gift? Well. If I was more of a loser today would have been my day. Someone who works at Zellers is rushing to the mystery spot RIGHT NOW so don't wait any longer. I was perusing the purses when I saw the crowd of freebie-whores. They actually sat through a presentation on the ShamWow cloth by the creepiest man in Zellers just to get a free ShamWow. Really? Was it worth it? That ShamWow better be pretty f-ing fantastic. I walked past them and prayed to the gods of "just not right now" that I would not get hollared at to "just come see how this thing works ma'am, don't pass up this great opportunity!" I got past unscathed and un-ShamWowed.

Then there was the badling, Ron Howard-y looking dad who kept trying to get away from his two annoying children who enjoyed playing tag and his wife who was absorbed in floral print tshirts and soap opera digests. I was in the food aisles and somehow he appeared in every aisle I went down. Coincidence? No. Creepy? Yes.

Then there was the cashier with her stringy blonde hair and big glasses and teeth that were screaming for some whitening time. She rang through one item. Four ninety seven. She rang through the second item. Also four ninety seven. Now hold on a minute. Something must be wrong here. What are the chances of THAT? She looked at my bag. She looked at her screen. She advanced a bit of the bill. She pulled item two from the bag. She looked at the screen again. She looked at item number one. She studied item number two. She looked at the screen one more time in case, oh I don't know, it CHANGED IN THE LAST TWO SECONDS. Fnally I just said "they're both the same price". Oh I know, she says, but she just had to double check cuz that one thing seems like such a good deal and I think I'm going to run and get one. Um. Are we in target? Are you Kristen Wiig? Are you going to leave me at the till while you run off and get yourself a Sleeping Beauty 3D coloring set? I was tempted to lie and say it was the last one. There's just something about someone inspecting your stuff before they put it in your bag and being all personally interested in what you've bought that rubs me the wrong way. Its like the person who scans all of the headlines on the cover of a magazine before putting it in your bag. Go get your own.

The big bag of Maltesers was on sale for two bucks. I knew if I bought them they'd be done in the matter of an afternoon. So I didn't buy them. I know. Progress. Go me.

Lullaby

When McK was little I don't think I ever sang her to sleep. We never really did the whole lullaby thing. Admittedly she was a good sleeper and we didn't really need to. So its pretty cool that she loves music as much as she does. Today on the way home she made up her own lyrics to every song we listened to.

On my latest CD I have a few jazz songs that I quite love. When Baby Its Cold Outside came on with Ella Fitzgerald, I told her we could each learn a part and sing it together. She loved the idea. The song has been in my head all day.

Tonight, when I put her to bed, I knew she was super tired. I started to hum the song and she told me to sing it. Huh? Ok. So I sang what I could remember. Then I sang Someone to Watch Over Me. Then she wanted a kids song so I sang her one of my old faves, Baby Beluga. She just kept asking for more so I finally had to have her tell me what she wanted to hear.

"The only place I wanna be is lost with you". Really? Yes. Really. Early on Tuesday by Jesse Cook. So I sang it. I heard her start to hum along. Again, she said. So I sang it again. I had to listen real close but when I did, I heard her singing along with me.

I may never have sung TO her when she was little. But there was something even more satisfying about singing WITH her that more than made up for it.