Ok, I concede that I may be a little cranky lately. There are some things that annoy me, but everyone has things that irritate them.
Humming, humming annoys me. The only reason for anyone to hum is to annoy the people around them, it’s a monotonous noise that you have to struggle to find the intended tune.
People who fart in public and leave a cloud that you inevitably walk through. Beth said that this is called crop dusting, I can see why.
People who take ‘selfies’ Seriously, stop it. Taking a picture of yourself sleeping is really stupid and just plain pathetic. You can also stop taking pictures of your feet. You have ugly toes.
Liars. You know, the people who if their lips are moving you can bet they are lying.
Using the words lose and loose wrong. You didn’t loose your keys; I promise.
When someone starts a sentence with, Don’t take this the wrong way. Or the other conversation starter. No Offence… but. Too late, don’t even want to hear what you have to say.
Hockey players who chew on their tooth guards, leaving them hang out of their mouths. It’s gross.
People who pick their noses while driving. I can see you. You aren’t driving an invisible car.
Apparently I have issues, that may or may not be related to menopause.
I think the honeymoon is over. When I was expressing my frustrations and concerns with Lover about menopause he got this glazed look in his eyes. When we were first married he would hang on my words, we would talk about everything, he was encouraging, complimentary. The other day I said that I felt like menopause was kicking my ass, and that I felt a little cranky, kind of moody. I looked at him waiting for him to protest, that I was not moody or cranky, I was my usual cheerful self. The bastard looked at the ceiling, the floor, then tried to change the subject!!
Ok, Ok, I admit I have been a little reactionary. The dog smacks her lips in her sleep and it pisses me off, but good lord, she sounds like a heroine addict. I also may have threatened to barbecue her.
Fast forward a few days and my sister sent this in an email. My Dad and Lover laughed and laughed…
Keep laughing boys. Keep laughing.
I’ve been a little irritated lately. I can’t really pinpoint the reason. I know it isn’t PMS ’cause I haven’t had one of those since last June. I thought I was on the home stretch to menopause but I was talking to a friend and she got to the 11 month mark without her monthly visit, then BAM she’s surfin’ the crimson wave and her doctor said she had to start the countdown over. I have a feeling that will also be my fate. I think I’ll throw a menopause party if I can officially proclaim the big ‘M’.
So, yes I’ve been a little cranky lately. A little more road rage than usual. I think pretty much everyone driving on the road is stupid. At this rate my family will take my license away when I turn 50.
The shoe pile at the door. #canadianproblems You should have seen it when it included everyone’s boots. I keep telling myself that when the kids are gone I’m going to miss this. Well, my Dad said I would miss it but I question his senility.
I was going to write a post about how I returned to weight watchers, but really, who cares.
I was going to tell you about making the pen*s pasta that Beth brought me back from Italy but there really isn’t anything interesting to tell about the event. I boiled water, dumped the bag of members in, decided to cook them el dente because that’s just hard enough. It was anticlimactic to be honest. Ben won’t eat it. I think he feels it’s morally wrong. He’s probably right, especially if you consider the rant I went on when I saw some of the boys in his class wearing the I LOVE BOOBIES bracelets they were selling to supposedly support breast cancer research.
I was going to express my unsolicited opinion about mommy bloggers who write posts about their too perfect homes and their too perfect children that shit glitter. I decided not to because really, who cares. Whatever floats your boat. Whatever gets you through the night. An imaginary life with sparkles and unicorn farts isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
My dishwasher is having issues and I’ve been washing dishes by hand, a post about how much I hate Samsung and how I will never, ever, like ever buy another Samsung product in my life was considered. I decided against it because all this dishwashing is drying out my skin and I’m using so much hand lotion that it’s a struggle to type.
The other day a friend called and mentioned that he and his wife had been in New York City. Well! Everyone knows that I will talk about the city all day, I love New York City. So he is telling me about a bus tour that they took and how the bus looks like a theatre, I told him that I had seen that bus and that I found it creepy. Mike and I laughed because we felt like we were the animals at the zoo. So, my friend goes on to describe how they saw this couple walking down the street that looked familiar, and realized that it was indeed Mike and I walking down the street. A city of 8 million people and they pass us on the street. What are the odds?
Meanwhile… back on the funny farm. A couple of weeks ago I made dinner for a couple of my friends. I used the pasta that Beth brought back from Italy. The pen*s pasta. I’m altering the word because of some funky searches that brought the creepers to my blog. I’m sure they were disappointed.
This is Katie at Hooters. Its tradition now whenever someone flies out of Toronto’s airport we go to Hooters first. I love Hooters.
Mike’s working on a case, and when Mike’s working on a case my dining room table becomes his work table.
Mike and I went for a walk the other day and were accosted by a kitty. It was a nice day so I brought my camera with me, I have 12 pictures of someone’s cat, 38 pictures of 2 squirrels chasing each other around a tree and more pictures of fish floating in the bay than I care to admit.
Have a GREAT Day!!!!
Six whole days. That’s how long I managed to blog for. Oh well. To be honest I’m not that heartbroken about it. I don’t know how bloggers stay on top of not only blogging every day, but manage to maintain facebook, twitter and instagram. My hats off to ya, but I have no desire to be that committed. Call me lazy.
Here are some pictures from my phone that I think I took during the days I was not blogging, or facebooking (I deleted my account), and you won’t find them on instagram because, as I said previously, I’m lazy.
Jack sleeping on couch. I gave up long ago trying to keep him off the couch, his alternate sleeping spot is to pull laundry out of the basket and sleep on that.
Close up of dog sleeping on couch.
Backgammon, wine and candles. Apparently I did put this on instagram. Guess I had more wine than I thought.
**And P.S., What is up with the media and speculation over Kate (Middleton) saying, ‘Da…’ and assuming that she was going to give the stuffed animal she received to her DAUGHTER. Hey, dumbasses, she was going to say DOG and realized that it was offensive to say she was going to let her dog tear apart a gift of a stuffed animal. Wanna make a bet on it?
I’ve been thinking, as I sit here enjoying a cup of coffee in my fuzzy bathrobe, the gas fireplace flickering over faux logs.
I’ve been thinking… about how much I hate snow.
When we were in Florida we met a girl actually from Florida, I’m not sure if I have ever met anyone who is originally from Florida, seems to be all transplants. Anyway, she told me she has never seen snow. I told her she was lucky, and described to her my contempt and hatred for snow. How it was cold, and how much I hate shovelling snow, and my deep seated fear of slipping on the ice when I’m older and breaking a hip, because you know it’s all downhill from there. She had a look of fear in her eyes, I’m not sure if she was afraid of me or snow. Probably snow.
I’ve been thinking… about laundry. Just kidding, I try not to think about laundry.
After 3 consecutive posts I failed at the challenge to blog every day. Oh well. I had other things to do. Like laundry.
I was reading a blog this morning in which a mommyblogger was discussing play dates. O.K., I skimmed it, I’m very much removed from the whole playdate issue. I wanted to post a comment and tell her that she should wait until they are teenagers and no matter how much prepping and threatening you do, you’ll find yourself picking your kid up from a sleepover looking like they were beaten on a rock. THEN, despite the fact you were assured that there would be no drinking, Mom and Dad were going to be home, because you’ve actually spoken to the Mom and she actually parrots the same parental concerns, and there are no male species sleeping over. You will discover that there was indeed drinking, there was a coed sleep over, and your 18 year old is nursing their first hangover, and has come to the conclusion that drinking is bad and tequila is worse.
The post did however flash me back to the days of playdates with my own children. At 3 Beth was invited to a birthday party which struck me as slightly ridiculous. Mom was bragging that she had invited every little girl in the nursery school. 15 little girls aged 3 and 4. My first though was she was nuts. It was also my second and third thought. I didn’t know this woman and Beth didn’t have much nice to say about her daughter, but she was excited about being invited to a birthday party. At the time I was a little tentative about letting her go, I spoke to the Mom, she was excited about hosting a birthday party for her daughter and had big plans involving glitter, which made me question her sanity right there. I spoke to the nursery school teacher who laughed when I mentioned all the little girls were invited, but she said something that stuck with me through the years. She said, ‘You are the only advocate for your daughter’. She was right.
I guess the moral of the story was that do the best you can, in the end you are raising the little people to be adults and make good decisions. Newsflash, sometimes they won’t. And the birthday party? When I picked Beth up she was toting a bag of sugar and a smile, but the Mom looked like she had been beaten against a rock.
Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.
I have always wanted to travel. When I was young I wanted to see the pyramids. When I was in my mid twenties I wanted to go to Barbados. I don’t know what drew me to want to travel there, I’m fairly certain that it was probably an ad in a travel agency window. Way back in the days before the internet, when you used travellers cheques and a travel agent to plan a trip.
I didn’t go to Barbados. I couldn’t find a friend to travel with, and at that time, who travelled alone? It wouldn’t have occurred to me to go to another country by myself.
I have always loved the airport, I love the airlines and the distant places they are bound to. When we were in New York the crew of the Emirates airline were staying in our hotel, their uniforms were beautiful, the women looked so exotic.
I’ve been talking about this glimpse I have of my potential empty nest, and the realization that a whole world of opportunity is opening up. There is a little voice in the back of my head however that tries to stomp that down by telling me it’s too late. It’s too late to travel to exotic places and eat crickets. That tramp isn’t content to stick to basic insecurities of weight and intelligence, now she’s encroaching on my wanderlust. Bitch.
**photo from Emirates Airline google images search**
Home from New York, after a 2 hour flight delay and a stop at duty free. I’m home and avoiding the laundry. A friend asked if I went to the top of the Empire State Building and I was embarrassed to say No. When she continued to talk about how much she loved New York, and how amazing it was to see the Statue of Liberty, a Broadway play and take the subway, I just nodded my head. I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t do any of those things. Well, I’ve taken the subway, but it’s just a subway. That wasn’t much of a thrill. Ok, I can say I rode a subway sitting across from 2 alleged gang members, but I was sitting between a 6 ft redhead and an army vet, and I gave them the Mom stare. It was fine.
I spent my time in New York doing nothing. Lover and I played backgammon while sipping wine. We had cocktails at The Rum House, across from The Barrymore Theatre. We walked past Central Park, too cold and windy to take a stroll through the park. We did nothing. It was wonderful. We had no deadlines, we made no reservations, we did nothing.
il dolce far niente
The Sweetness of Doing Nothing