I Remain Aloof and Ambivilant With a Side of Fog-Induced Misery. Good. Times.

The current weather conditions have prompted Hubby to exclaim his dedication to moving, so he has taken to looking up prospective real estate on the mainland. This has included my hometown, where I have to say “No, that’s not Chatham. That’s actually in Tilbury” to which he shakes his head and says “So?” Yes. Exactly. So? So why are you even looking over there? So, there’s no real viable based-in-reality prospect of us moving to Southwestern Ontario within the next 4 years, but he loves to toy with the idea just to see my reaction. I remain ambivalent and aloof, until the next day which has me looking up real estate in ACTUAL Chatham, not the near-miss towns, and then I get all sentimental and ‘what if’ and then I snap out of it when the IB book list looms over my head reminding me my teenaged son has yet to graduate highschool. And drive. And get a first part-time job with actual customers yelling at him because he messed up their beloved double-double. To relocate the junior would be detrimental to my sanity…and his.
Life marches on and the weather we are experiencing plays a major part in mood and enjoyment of life. The entire month of July has been one big kick in the ass, day-after-day of rain, drizzle, fog and near freezing temperatures. After a while it has one dreaming of beachy vacations amid sand, sun and surf, and possibly even selling it all and moving to an uninhabitable tropical island to become beachcombers and vagrants…is that even possible? Can one still be a rugged beachcomber living off the sand, building a straw hut and eating coconuts and bananas all day as the warm sun sinks into her skin? Ahhh….I think I want to try that.
People are starting to wonder if the sun will ever shine again in our skies. Flowers are not blooming, the barbeque remains unlit and the deck hasn’t seen occupants the entire month. We are now thinking fall will just come swiftly, leaving summer a distant imaginary friend waving at us from our driveway as father backs over her with his car. Poor Summer. She never had a chance with Dad at the wheel.
As the rest of the civilized world bakes in a heat wave, we shiver and huddle in our masses and homes, fires lit in the fire place, blankets abound and the umbrellas and nanny bonnets at the ready. (Nanny bonnet= rain bonnet old ladies wear to protect their permanents. These are Dollar store finds that the senior women use on windy, rainy days, currently in abundance these days. I threatened to don one yesterday as I headed out into torrential rain and 60km hour winds)
You may laugh at our inconsequential whining of ‘no summer weather’ however, we only get two months of summer-like temperatures to begin with. Now take away an entire month, and we are left hoping and desperately pleading with the weather gods to make August a more warmer and sunnier reprieve from the onslaught of winter. We know, we choose to live here, and most of us will not trade places with mainlanders, our island being our homeland as we remain stoically patriotic, however, that tends to wain as the days of rain, drizzle, fog wear on and our spirits begin to drag. A day in the sunshine is all we ask.
I hope with a new month beginning tomorrow, Summer will make an appearance in my driveway. I’ll remind the drivers to watch where they’re going so she can safely wave and maybe even stay for supper.    I’ll turn on the barbeque….who wants a hamburger?

Look!  There it is!  Ahhh...warm....

Look! There it is! Ahhh…warm….

Since Summer Has Evaded Us, The Least We Could Do is Drink…Or Something Like That

Epilogue to this post

I live in Newfoundland and Labrador.  We are now experiencing a summer to go down in the history books…THE COLDEST SUMMER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER!!  Apparently, NL doesn’t give a shit about El Ninio or Global Warming. While the rest of North America is wallowing in ‘heat waves’, we sit with our woolies on contemplating using the kids bunk beds for firewood.   Apparently,  NL only cares for pissing off peeps desperate for some sun and temps warm enough that the furnace doesn’t click on and hope we have enough propane to last until fall arrives…next week.   Ugh. We have had only one day above 20C so far….

I have a lovely group of friends who tolerate my inane sense of humour and my ever-incessant need to email them on a nearly weekly basis about the happenings of the ‘hood or mainly, my life.  They seem to wander on over to my blog every now and then, but I email them out of a sense of desperate attention seeking behaviour and all the applause I routinely receive following an epic monolgue about kids and house paint.  Here is an email I wrote yesterday that they actually read.  I know because they told me.  Now I’m letting you in on the email.   Enjoy….

What up Ma Homies? (Yes, I often address them as ‘Ma Homies’.  They like tolerate it. See?  THEY ARE WONDERFUL)

I hope this fall- like weather has you in the mood to spend some quality time in front of a roaring fire and burn down the nearest weather station.  Or, like me at 6am this morning, ready to throw a brick through the television set as the anchor woman declared “it’s so hot in the Boston area right now, it’s going to get to mid to high 90’s, you should all head to the beach to cool down….” I think I heard the words ‘fuck off’ in there somewhere, and I then went a bit delirious and started talking in tongues.  I was looking for sharp objects when I thought I should get ready for work….

Right up there with the crappy weather is the onslaught of home redecorating that’s going on at our house.  Or, as I call it “The Great Paint Off”.  I’m realizing that as I paint one room, the room next to it looks awful, so I have to paint that one and so on.  There was a debate going on about colours ( I wasn’t sure about the Nimbus Gray which is actually blue, but is called grey to piss everybody off,  and question their Kindergarten education) On advice from the “paint experts” who claimed the paint darkens as it dries, I literally sat down and watched paint dry for almost an hour to see if I could notice the colour change.  Sad but true.  And it did change a little bit, but to actually admit I sat and watched paint dry, is tragic in and of itself.  AND, just to prove that I am a glutton for all out punishment, I decided to paint my backsplash in my kitchen.  OH MY GOD WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS I THINKING??!!  This is where I should have a logical angel sitting on my shoulder whispering to me “ Now, Kayjai you know that’s going to be a lot of work and you will be painting and stenciling until wee hours or until you at least you go crosseyed because you know how anal you get about paint lines and colour coordination…” but no. Instead, I listened to all of the paint peeps on the internet and the glossy home reno mags that stated “Stenciling is fun, easy and inexpensive.  Can be done in an afternoon”  I GOT ONE SQUARE DONE IN AN AFTERNOON!  And, ‘fun’?  That seriously depends on your definition of ‘fun’.    Mine involves beach, sun and alcohol.  Obviously, you are limited in your fun adventures, internet-painting-peeps and glossy-magazine-editors.  Get a life.

 So, in the absence of intelligence I started…and now I can’t stop.  Two  Three days and massive hours later I have all of ONE wall done.  ONE.  That’s it. The only reason I had to shut it down temporarily is that I have a job where I have to leave the house and be available…but I really want to go home and finish the damned stenciling to then see if I like it, wherein, if I don’t, I HAVE THE OPTION TO PAINT OVER IT.  I think I’ll get a bit cranky and stabby if I decide to paint over three plus days’ worth of back breaking stenciling and listening to the remarks of “Ugh, aren’t you done that yet? Mom, I think that square is crooked”  OR, my favourite yet, “Mom, not to be critical or anything, but how are you going to finish the bottom half?  You know that that part there is kinda off from the rest right?”  STABBY.

Oh, and just to top it all off, my training for the Tely sucks, by the way.  Yeah.  I ran almost 14k yesterday and I got a sore foot and more freckles…from the clouds.  Apparently clouds gives me more freckles.  Yay me.  I’m too old for this shit.

So, hope you are all having a stenciling-free week where you can sit back, crank up the heat and drink yourselves into oblivion…Since summer has evaded us, the least we could do is get drunk enough to appreciate bad weather and poor judgement.

My love to all and if you see stencils blowing around outside, just ignore that…I plan on stenciling the sidewalk with this phrase “Fuck summer.  I choose wine.”

Kxo

The stenciling project from hell...

The stenciling project from hell…

That Day Where Hiding is Better With Wine…Yeah, That Day

I had a hard time with my run today. My legs felt like they were filled with cement and I just didn’t have my heart in it. I was too quick to give up and no matter how hard I started, I ended up flailing and fumbling. I finished it, but it was sucky at best. Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow morning and I will have a better go at it.
The rain is coming down and I’m feeling tired and cranky. I don’t want to do anything but curl up under the covers and watch bad movies. Maybe the dog will settle down enough to do that with me…wine would be good too. Yeah…some wine.
I have a bunch of projects ahead of me that need tending to, and daughters who need attention (even adult daughters seem to need me) and a son who is flying through exams and a Hubby who is busy at work…I’m feeling in over my head…did someone say wine?
I have holes in my stockings, my head hurts and I STILL can’t finish this god forsaken book that drowns everybody in its path with depression and rain soaked misery. Anybody want to borrow it? Ugh…
It’s obvious; I’ve lost my enthusiastic verve for anything resembling flowers and sunshine today, so I’ll just give you this:

Pretty much sums up today

Pretty much sums up today

I hope your day is going better than mine…

Drive-Thru Etiquette You Didn’t Know Existed

My daughter tells me very matter-of-factly one day, that I am rude in the drive-thru. Seriously, do you even know me?

Me?! Rude to the drive-thru attendant? How is this even possible?
We are Tim’s obsessed, probably due to my overzealous need for caffeine and Hubby’s need for tea that’s made by somebody other than me. Whatever the reason, we can’t help ourselves. Whilst attending the drive-thru on the way home from work one day, the attendant person pleasantly asks for my order and, in my sincerest nicest voice ( I swear, I was nice) I give my order…or so I thought.

MOM! Why are you so rude?!” I hear from the passenger seat. D2 was appalled and looking at me like I had just turned into a Zombie and was about to snack down on a stranger’s arm. Geez, it’s not like I tried to tell her a joke, or made a Dr. Seuss rhyme out of my order like I so wanted to. “Can I have timbits in box with a fox in his sox? I do not like tea on a train or in the rain or by the plains. I do not like green tea and jam, I do not like that Swiss cheese and ham.”
I was shocked.

ME?! RUDE?! WHAT?!

Everybody thinks I’m nice…well, everybody who I declare my niceness to on a daily basis and have no evidence of the contrary, unless you count that time I called somebody a jackass for putting out notes all over the place regarding my apparent total disregard for putting my trash away when really, in my defense, it wasn’t technically ‘trash’ so much as compost and I had left it in the wrong place. Then maybe….
What was not nice about that?” I ask.
You just said ‘Yeah, give me blah, blah, blah’ DON’T SAY ‘YEAH’ SAY ‘HELLO’ OR ‘HI’”
Obviously, I missed the drive-thru tutorial on niceties and politeness while giving a Tim’s order.
Okay, former McDonald’s drive-thru chick, I’ll say ‘hi’ instead of ‘yeah’. Anything else?” I hadn’t even realized I had said the totally offensive ‘yeah’.
No, just try to be nice. They WORK IN A DRIVE-THRU FOR GOD’S SAKE”
Okay, okay….but I did say ‘thank you’!”
Yes. That’s good, but drop the ‘yeah’. It’s rude”
Can I rhyme? I want my coffee in a box with a fox….”
NO! NO NO NO A THOUSAND TIMES NO!”
So…no? Hmm…then saying ‘ yeah’ is rude?”
Yeah…I mean ‘yes’”
Hmmm….”

Ugh…”

Yummm...

Yummm…

Running Amok

So, time to come clean.  I’ve gone and done it.  Last month I took another leap. I’ve managed to wrangle myself into running another Tely. My fourth. It was something I’ve been thinking about since January, but was unsure if I would remain healthy enough to see it through. Self-doubt always being my biggest obstacle, I had to put that aside and look at the goal. Running another Tely.  And a good virtual kick in the ass from Hubby was appreciated…after the fact, of course. After my first outdoor run in January and I realized running a mere 3 kms was a struggle. Scary.

I think this would be way more fun....

I think this would be way more fun….

I’ve been following the training schedule from the Tely 10 website since the first day it came out in early May and I’m surprised to say I haven’t missed a day of training. Not one scrap, one kilometer or, as painful as they all were, not one hill repeat went unnoticed or unrun(?) The Hill O’Pain remains the bane of my existence, but I persevered and hauled my ass up that hill…eight times last Wednesday. There was a lot of swearing that day. And cars driving by wondering why some lady was running up and down that big ass hill in the fog, and last week in the rain…I loves St. John’s, right? Admittedly, I had to train for the training, which means there was some daring tiny runs in January and February, some cross training going on thanks to D2 and her Cross fit schedule laid out in the basement in March and April, and then finally, some runs as the weather became less frigid and more less-frigid…I’m still waiting for warmth, but that should happen some day in July…you know, that one day…
My love/hate relationship with running is hitting the love meter, right now. After six weeks of pain and agony, I can finally feel my stride returning. I felt strong after my 10km on Sunday instead of tired. I felt capable of running a few extra kms if I had to, instead of flopping on the roadside looking for a ride home. Dare I say the training is working? Shall I say that I may remain uninjured and healthy long enough to see race day? Hmmm….let’s not say that too loud. The universe is watching…

NOT the infamous Hill O'Pain...this one looks almost easy...pffft.

NOT the infamous Hill O’Pain…this one looks almost easy…pffft.

You Want Me To Wear WHAT?!

Me: Women’s shit should be free. All of it: make up, feminine hygiene products, Midol, Prozac, tampons, razors…FREE, FREE, FREE! If men had to buy all this crap, it would be discounted or there would be special payment plans so all they had to do is walk up and pass it over the scanner. The readout would say “you’re a guy. So sorry it’s THAT time. Here’s a coupon for free beer and sports all day. No charge!” Ugh.
I’m reading the saddest book ever. Not sad, like ugh it’s boring and sad, but SAD like tragic and totally depressing. I picked up this novel-of-misery probably because it had a one word book review from STEPHEN KING blaring on the front cover, saying it’s a ‘TRIUMPH’. A triumph?! REALLY STEPHEN??!! A kid’s mother dies in a bomb attack while they’re at a museum of all places! He’s dumped off to his rich neighbour’s where they merely tolerate him until his estranged father returns and moves him to Vegas! VEGAS?! Then the kid gets into drinking and drugs and left alone for days while his father gambles away any money he has….It’s one thing after another….I’m not sure how much more I can take. Next time Mr. King reviews a book, he should add more words like “only read this if you like tragedy and kids struggling to survive”…then, perhaps I could be a better judge on what I’m about to invest large quantities of time and valuable anti-depressants. Thanks, Stephen. I blame you. If it wasn’t for your recommendation, I may have picked up something a little more upbeat like War and Peace, or finished Jane Eyre… I’ve now taken to stabbing myself with mini cocktail forks until I have tiny puncture wounds all over my arms.…it somehow eases the pain from the book which I am forced to finish BECAUSE I HAVE TO READ A BOOK I START NO MATTER HOW AWFUL AND TRAGIC IT IS. I’ll be over here with the cocktail forks and a bottle of Merlot…
I wore a dress to work today. The first one I’ve worn in a while. The comments are a little over the top. Nice, but a little bit too embarrassing. Maybe I should stop wearing jeans every day, and then people would get used to me wearing something different. The only problem with having to actually work at dressing up is the work. And the dressing up. Shoes other than flat running shoes, bother me. The undergarments I must wear to hold in the giggly bits, bother me. Especially this one since its one piece with the bra and everything all attached. The ‘bra’ part actually flattens the boobs, so wearing another bra underneath is recommended. And it hooks in the crotch area so when I have to pee, I have to unhook it THERE. It’s a tad difficult because of its location. I have to bend over to see the invisible hooks which is ungodly in its design in that I have to stare at my vajajay like I’m inspecting a flat tire. It’s also tragic when trying to re-hook. I can’t see what I’m hooking and I miss (no I don’t hook THAT, because if I did the loud swearing would ban me from the washroom altogether) and I swear and it takes what seems like forever…. it must seem strange to anyone who glances under the stall to see my feet so wide apart and all the swearing and wondering what’s going on over there… Ugh. Of course, if someone is looking under the stall in the first place, that’s questionable behaviour and I’d have to reconsider the public washroom thing, but then I’d have to hold it all day and that’s just not possible. I could do the alternative to the unhooking which would be pulling off the girdle-from-hell entirely, but then my dress would have to come off and then I’d be naked just to pee. I’m now George Costanza. So, really the logical part would be to just do the slutty unhooking bit, but it’s tedious and a little risque for an office environment washroom, don’t you think?

Don't say it, Sue....

Don’t say it, Sue….

THIS is why I don’t wear a dress.

Talking to Teenagers Mother’s Day Edition

18870-the-walking-dead-the-walking-dead

NOT a teen prom pic. although, it would make those grad pics a little more interesting…

Since Mother’s Day is drawing near and there are some mothers out there who need your love, I have compiled a list of tips for dealing with the strangest and complex of animals, the Teens.  Read it.  Frame it.  Present it to her on a silver tray with her FULLY PREPARED BREAKFAST, FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE and you will be her favourite person EVER.

You. Are. Welcome.

Teens don’t want to talk to you and often appear dazed and confused at the best of times, so having any kind of logical coherent conversation is a minefield of babbling randomness or total silence.  It’s a crapshoot, really.  AND, they would rather be connected to their phones than anywhere in your vicinity.  They don’t even want to acknowledge your existence in the universe let alone in their sphere of the world, so having any kind of repartee demands skill on your part…and actually paying attention, which let’s face it, to some of us is quite difficult.

Here are some tips when talking to teens to keep in mind:

  1. They think you are lame and so far from knowing any of the real shit that goes down that it amazes them that you are able to operate a motor vehicle or any other major household appliance, so keep whatever you want to say short and to the point.  They already think you’re dumb…don’t make it worse by trying to expand your street cred with them by going on long explanations of the mechanics of making paper airplanes.  I’m begging you.
  2. Feed them first. They respond well to food of any kind and are more likely to talk to you whilst downing their fourth hot dog, than after said meal and The Walking Dead comes on.
  3. Trap them in the backseat of a motor vehicle with their friends by offering to drive them wherever they want to go. They often forget you’re there and will start spilling stuff with their bestie, unknowingly giving you fodder and further gossip for later wine dates with the other moms…not that I’ve done that of course.
  4. Don’t try to be their friends. Seriously, they have those already.  They need parents.  Do that.
  5. Try not to trivialize the drama that they have going on. My eldest is a total drama queen, while my middle child is more level headed and logical.  We see the drama emanating from D1, but instead of making fun of her, we try to be listeners and silent supporters.  She just needs to vent most times.  She vents and moves on.  AND THEN we roll our eyes and mock her endlessly…we’re allowed.  We voted on it.
  6. Humour is awesome. I think we’ve been through this before.  There’s ALWAYS a good time to use sarcasm and puns to prove a point.  They realize they’re being silly…and maybe a bit DRAMATIC.  AND then they’ll stop it to save the onslaught of mockery and endless teasing they’ll have to endure later.  Because that will happen…oh, yes it will.
  7. Using the dog as an excuse for your overprotectiveness is quite okay. For example “I only texted you a million times last night because the dog was obviously worried you would forget to feed her the next morning and was up all night pacing and panting.  So, really.  YOU NEED TO BE HOME TO TAKE CARE OF THIS DAMNED DOG.”  See?  Like that.
  8. Guilt is in your repertoire for a reason. So use it.  “You’ll be sorry for that when I’m not here to take care of you anymore because I’m locked up in some home for the insane due to the torment you and your brother and sister did to me for all of my adult life.  And THAT is why I need wine.”
  9. Hone your poetry skills for those late night texts that go unnoticed by your little darling and are spread around the bar at 2:00am to her friends who now think you are either A) a poetry genius or B) as drunk as they are. Either way, you win.  AND, don’t worry about coming up with something original.  Using Dr. Seuss rhymes and other children’s authors is highly recommended.  It makes them remember their long forgotten childhoods of you reading Hop on Pop for the millionth time when they were four. They get all sentimental and want to go home…or will text you begging for you to stop.  Yay you!  Epic win…
  10. Distraction is your friend.  Learning the art of distraction is so much a skill I highly recommend.  You can use it during an argument with Hubby: “I know, the Visa bill is high this month and Oh MY GOD ISN’T IT YOUR MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK?!  We so have to get something for her.  GET ON THE PHONE AND CALL HER RIGHT NOW! When was the last time you called her?!  WE NEED TO KNOW IF THERE’S ANYTHING SHE NEEDS. YOU MIGHT HAVE TO DRIVE OUT THERE!”   The visa bill is forgotten and it’s his fault his mother’s birthday is next week and he callously forgot…bastard.  Anyways, you can use this ‘technique’ on the kids too: “You are so right.  I had no idea that it was so difficult being you.  By the way, did you know that Sephora is going in the mall?  Have you SEEN their new website?  Maybe you should apply for a job there!  Let’s see if you can apply online…”       So, so easy….