East Coast Trail The Sequel, With Art and Everything!

We, meaning the ladies and I and a few little ones, embarked on our second epic East Coast trail hike last Sunday morning onto Cobbler Path.

2016 645  A 4kms and change hike into awesomeness that can only be described as steep and climby and a wee bit sweary.   Although it wasn’t raining…it was foggy, instead.  Newfoundland weather never disappoints.

2016 657

See over the cliff?  That’s the ocean.  See it? IT’S RIGHT THERE! 

So foggy, I couldn’t see the ocean…which was a bummer because who doesn’t like to see the ocean?   AND, we had to walk/hike/climb and of course, swear up the long stairs onto a steep cliff to look down and see…nothingness.  White nothingness.  Ugh.  At least we got through it…with a balancing act of epic proportions, I might add.

2016 647

  WHERE ARE THE DAMNED RAILINGS?!!

2016 665

 

The last pics are the artwork we found on the buildings just as we were heading out of Red Cliff.

Enjoy.

 

 

 

2016 678

They are waiting for me to cross the rocks and water.  Smartasses.  

2016 700

Graceful as fuck.  Again. 

2016 702

We are happy we are not lost in the fog…BTW…THERE’S THE OCEAN IN THE BACKGROUND.  WE FOUND IT. 

Wow…a wee bit sweary, but interesting for sure…

Our next adventure we are expecting to see actual vistas…and scenes.  And hopefully each other at some point.  One of the ladies is hoping there will be railings on the stairs, but I’m not holding my breath.

2016 667               2016 685

 

 

http://www.eastcoasttrail.ca/

http://eastcoasttrail.ca/trail/view.php?id=22

 

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…

Monday Thoughts

I forgot my chocolate in the car. Is it wrong to get my daughter to drive it over to me?
Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I plan on taking more of them because I’m getting too lazy to write shit down

Huh?

Huh?

After forty-eight years of struggle and fear, I finally accomplished a real push-up. Not the wussy modified knee-pushup…the real ‘military’ style one. AND, not just one. I can do up to FIVE! IN A ROW. I was ecstatic about it until I started bragging to everybody I knew and they all gave me that look. You know the one…the ‘oh-that’s-cute-and-sad-at-the-same-time-cause-she-thinks-she’s-conquered-an-acutal-life-skill’ look and go ‘yeah. EVERYBODY can do those’. Fuck. I thought I was being awesome. Turns out I was just being average. So, now I’m asking everybody I see if they can do an actual pushup and not the wussy modified knee-pushup but an actual pushup, and they go ‘yeah’ and then I go ‘show me’ which they do, which makes me feel only slightly adequate and not at all as awesome as I did when I finally completed my FIVE IN A ROW. Ugh. I’ll have to up my game and brag about my expert crafting skills at building a tower out of Popsicle sticks and white glue. That’ll show’em…

This one...this.  I did this.

This one…this. I did this.

I must have driven to work like I was in the Indy 500 this morning, because by the time I arrived in the parking lot, my lunch had spilled all over the back seat of the car…I think half of it landed somewhere on the floor under a seat, but I was too lazy to look for it. It’s buried under there somewhere. Maybe D2 will find it…eventually. Then it will be like “Gawd. Something died in here. What’s that smell?” I’ll blame the dog…It’s good to have a plan.

What?!

What?!

I just tried to call D2 to bring me my chocolate. She’s not answering. She probably found it in the secret hiding space in the car where everybody looks first, and is not answering my calls because she knows that I’m going to ask her to deliver it. Dammit. I hate it when my kids know me too well. I’ll have to text her with the word ‘emergency’ and then she’ll call me and be all like ‘chocolate isn’t an emergency’, but I beg to differ. CHOCOLATE IS ALWAYS AN EMERGENCY. THAT’S LIKE SAYING BAMBI’S MOTHER’S DEATH WASN’T A TRAGEDY!! Have you no heart? Ugh.

TRUTH!!

TRUTH!!

We are planning the next all-ladies all-inclusive boozer vacay that hubby has decided he needs to be apprised of just in case he wants to go off somewhere warm alone and without his awesome lovely wife…whilst we ladies are contemplating sand, sun and visions of drinks and shirtless waiters, I may have to give a false not-so-sunny-and-hot location just to make him feel better. Like, instead of Jamaica or Cancun, guess what dear? We have decided to go to Bell Island or Greenland instead. Or, we’re foregoing any awesome vacay altogether, just so we can spend all of our saved cash on you guys…
Hahaha…I know, right? Good, one Kayjai.

Family Time and Dog Farts

It’s not very often that we can gather together as a family, these days. With daughters working and going to Uni full time, and son also in his first year of high school and slightly employed (I say ‘slightly’ as he has secured a gig as a referee for some minor hockey games, but only on the weekends), our busy lives have prevented us from being in the same room for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. So when the opportunity presented itself for us to take a road trip to Nanny’s house Christmas day (a 4 1/2 hour long road trip), we surprisingly jumped at it. Turns out, the spontaneous let’s squish in the truck with an anxiety prone dog who should be taking Prozac and anti-farting medication was one of the better times we’ve had.
Why?
A short trip that entailed little in way of responsibility for any parties involved and virtually no expectations except that Nanny would be home and happy to see us. Yay for the latter, as Nanny happened to be out and we were waiting patiently for her return…but when she did show up, she was happy to see us. And we were happy to be out of the truck and away from the smell…ugh.

Our drive home on the open road...

Our drive home on the open road…

What?!  I didn't fart...that was the boy...I blame him.

What?! I didn’t fart…that was the boy…I blame him.

As fast as that road trip was (up and back home the next day) the time in the truck produced laughs, cuddles for us in the back seat, one spilled hot chocolate, a wandering dog who enjoyed licking everyone’s faces and some serious book time. Except for the dog’s flatulence and the tragedy of a hot chocolate downed on a Christmas shirt, it was quite a great ride home. One I think we needed in order to get that ‘family’ togetherness we have been lacking.
Since our spontaneous arrival at Nanny’s meant no Christmas turkey (Nanny had been invited out for turkey that afternoon), we postponed our dinner for a couple of days and invited Bestie and her fam. for the event. That meant, nine for dinner. Besides a runny bread pudding and less-than-baked cheesecake, the turkey was great and everybody around the table for dinner was amazing…
A nice way to spend Christmas.
New Year’s Eve prompted the annual Resolution Reformation and I cannot remember what I declared in Miss H’s binder of, what I am confident to be, intelligent and non-inebriated declarations of determined goals for the year ahead. However, after giving it some thought and a couple of prompts from Miss H herself in the forms of prolific quote and thoughtful email, I have decided to enjoy more.
That’s it really…smile more, laugh more and enjoy more. Fairly simple, really. I want to be able to enjoy the moments around me, the people who pass in and out of my life and the little stuff that we take for granted. For example, the quiet snowfall last night…I went out in my pj’s and took a few snaps, stood in the falling snow with my face to the sky and stuck out my tongue. I caught a few snowflakes and admittedly, a few questioning glances from neighbours, but I enjoyed the shit out of it. I got to linger in the peacefulness of a quiet night, the black sky darted with fat snowflakes falling gently onto my face and I thought “this is a wonderful night”.

Our snowy night...

Our snowy night…

That, my friends, is an awesome start to a new year in my books….how was yours?

It’s Like the Golden Globes but Without the Pretty Dresses and the Awards and the Celebrities

 

golden globe

I was watching the Golden Globes the other night with the ladies.  As we were sitting around laughing about our Yoga class escapades in our yoga pants and downing wine and chocolate,(which is necessary after Yoga.  It’s the rules.  We looked it up) we listened to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler crack jokes and make fun.  Then the awards started.  And the speeches.  Aside from the Bissetian Diatribe of Death where Jacqueline Bisset decided to enlighten us about her ‘beauty secret’, (apparently it’s forgiveness.  Okay, so I forgive you for being drunk and rambling.  There.  I should be gorgeous in the morning.  Thank you, Jackie!) it occurred to me that we shouldn’t have to thank people we think are awesome and who have made indelible marks on our lives only after we are presented with an awesome award…really, we all deserve Globes just for sitting through Bisset’s rambling and Diane Keaton’s weak singing.. really, we should. AND, Gorgeous George was nowhere to be found.  Ugh. We should take that golden opportunity to thank our peeps now.

So, in the spirit of the Globes, I hereby give my thank you speech in advance in case I win an Oscar, or a Golden globe or a Razzy or even a tube sock as a booby prize (although, winning a booby prize would infer winning a booby…not a tube sock) and at the time of the illustrious award presentation,  I am unable to form words recognizable to the human ear…or by some unfathomable twist of fate, morph into Jacqueline Bisset.

First of all I want to thank my husband of twenty something years for only being a douche half the time.  I understand that living with me can be painful and downright bizarre, so I’ll forgive you for being Mr. Crabby Pants on occasion…or twenty.  I can’t imagine living my life without you and I love you to death.  And you make me smile when I think you’re being a total asshole, so there’s that.

Thank you for my children for surviving all of the crap we put you through with moving and then forcing you to be responsible little people.  I know it’s painful to live with a father who likes rules and a mommy who thinks Teletubbies are an alternate alien life form, but through it all you have somehow survived.  And have become people!  Actual living and breathing people.  By some miracle of the universe you are not only intelligent, caring and cute, but you are all funny as shit.  I take credit for that.  You. Are. Welcome.  I mean…I love you all to the depths of my being and I am honored to be your mommy. 

To my family in Ontario who like to take credit for my upbringing in some happenstance, I thank you for letting me sleep in your kid’s room, holding my hand through my mother’s death and giving me the advice of a lifetime, “Don’t eat the gum that’s stuck to the bottom of the table”.  You all rock.

Thank you to my brother who managed to survive my awkward shyness, and not totally deny my existence to his friends…all of the time.  I know there was an unsaid understanding that you would be my brother forever and for that I love you.  Thank you to his wife for being the sensible one and the nephew for being the creative one and putting up with my new-found sense of humor. I know I take some getting used to, but let’s face it your family is waaay more crazy than me, so really I think as a SIL, you hit the jackpot lady.   

To my parents who had the daunting task of raising a shy redheaded freckle-face, I love you both deeply and I carry you with me everywhere.  I see you in my son’s blue eyes, my daughter’s round face and my daughter’s expressions.  You are the reason I have a beautiful family.

To Oogie and Floyd who somehow decided that becoming a part of three kids’ lives was a great idea, I think you got way more than you bargained for with us.  You have left us with loving memories of a summer cottage on a lake, a first plane ride and countless Christmases and weekends filled with laughter and love.  I miss you both desperately and carry your smiles with me daily. You gave me a sistah from another mutha who thinks I’m a bit ‘out there’ but still has the guts to admit she knows me.  Awesome.

To my in-laws who, after our first meeting said , “She’s sarcastic as shit but maybe we can get to like her on some level”. You all have put up with me for so long, I’m surprised you still want to associate with an asshole like me.  God love ya’s.

To ma family out on the West coast, you’ve known me from being a shy introvert to a sarcastic wino and I love you to bits.  If we ever get the chance to live in the same coast, the island will never be the same.  I’m lucky to have besties on two coasts.

To ma Facebook friends and family, it’s a wonder you all admit that you know me.  You still ‘like’ my stupid remarks and lame comments which totally floors me.  I’m always expecting to get a message in my inbox saying “Please stop being an asshole and stop leaving shit on my wall. I don’t really like you that much, I’m just your friend because your brother told me I had to be.” But that has not yet happened…maybe after this post it will.  You all have been so supportive and nice and even inspirational!  Thanks for that. 

To ma girls in St. John’s, you all have become more than just neighbours, you are ma friends and despite ma annoying emails, ma ability to make fun of lost children and wayward puppies, you still by some bizarre happenstance, put up with me. Thank you for being my entertainment, my confidants and my besties.  I manage to write a bit because you all encourage me to keep going and at the same time, laugh at all the shit I throw down. You all rock!

Finally, to ma blogging buddies who inspire me to write a bit and visit me on occasion to say nice things, thank you for making ma blogging days a little brighter.  I look forward to your posts, love hearing your comments and take a little joy in thinking I may know you just a bit. 

There, I hope I didn’t go over ma time limit and the hokey music isn’t playing to try to push me off the stage.  I am truly grateful to all of you for making me a better person, despite my asshatery.  You have all made huge marks on my life…and some of you, on ma carpet and F’s chairs.  Clean that shit up, will ‘ya?

Reallly, Jackie you should stop talking...like 5 mins. ago

Reallly, Jackie you should stop talking…like 5 mins. ago

Parlez-Vous Joey?

So, Hubby sent me these attachments to read and ‘get to know’ on an intimate level regarding pensions and shit.  After the first page, I started reading this:  A pension under the…blah, blah, blah, annuation perpetuates by a 2% blah, blah, blah….fuck-it-all-and-move-to-Figiblah, blah, blah….

Yeah.  I’m not sure how much ‘getting to know’ and ‘intimacy’ myself and this pension plan has.  There will be no candle-lit dinners involved in THAT relationship…

We have booked an epic journey to New York departing Montreal following the Canada Games row-a-thon that D2 will be commandeering.  Should be a hoot.  After a week of forcibly attempting to speak ma Joey-French (to those of you who missed THE ENTIRE NINE YEARS OF FRIENDS AND IF YOU DID, I’M NOT SURE IF WE COULD STILL BE  CONSIDERED FRIENDS, Joey-French was the mysterious French- language-interpretation that Joey thought he could speak and get away with.  Unfortunately, that did not work out very well for him. HOW COULD YOU HAVE MISSED THAT ONE?  SERIOUSLY. GO WATCH IT SO WE CAN GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS.) 

 The poor people of Quebec will be so confused at my version of the French language they’ll ask that I switch to sign language.  OR they’ll just think I’m high all the time.  OR that I have some disability that makes me speak in tongues.  So, they’ll ask son to speak on my behalf.  Thanks Montreal. 

New York is looking like a sand trap for tourists who revel in getting tragically lost at every turn or high from the exhaust fumes from all the traffic.  SOUNDS PERFECT.  Hubby is not thrilled with this choice…he wanted sand. And sun. And blue water.  SUCK IT UP, DUDE.   AND, we could be forcing him to sit through a Broadway show.  I can’t wait to see his face after an hour of singing and dancing. HE’S GONNA DIE!!!!  (This is the antagonistic asshole part of me. You. Are. Welcome.)

After scouring the internet for days on end, repeatedly pestering Bestie and D regarding our impending Journey into The Great Beyond, I have nailed down exactly NOTHING. Nada. Zilch.  Fucking zero, people.  City pass or Explorer Pass?  Museums?  They have a gagillion.  Statue of Liberty?  You gotta take a fucking boat to get there!  Jeesh, I live on a Goddamned island and I GOTTA TAKE ANOTHER FUCKING BOAT?!!  Ugh…I got the swearing down pat.  AND, I’m working on ma New York accent…FUHGEDDABOUDIT…eh?  Sort of a cross between a young DeNiro and an old Carol Channing with a Canadia twist.  I SAID I WAS WORKING ON IT. 

It’s all confusing and exciting at the same time…great.  Now I’m sounding like a Taylor Swift song. 

As for the Father’s Day gift that I bought for the father of my children, the bread winner, the all-around-great –guy.  He arrived home from work last night and saw it sitting in the living room.  His reaction: “What’s that?  Why did you get that?”  He then continued to tell me I should have spent the money on myself, to which I replied something like this:

“dlkskjieooiwj…and lsiie tet fusi- place un baiser sur mon ass maintenant fblahmuthaslsoifuskcier” 

YOU WOULD TOTALLY UNDERSTAND THAT IF YOU KNEW JOEY-FRENCH.

For all my DH ladies who made the effort to come to the blog to read something different, my apologies.  Your emails are now fodder for blog posts. 

Now get back to watching all NINE years of Friends…

The Email

The following is an actual email I JUST SENT to all of my DH ladies.  THEY’RE GOING TO BE AFTER ME SOON!!
  Enjoy…

Dear Things,

It is with a heavy heart that I must send you this email.  You have all been trusted and dear friends of mine and I realize this news may come as a shock to you, but I really must impart this most disturbing turn of events.

I don’t want you all to be dismayed by this news or have it shatter your ideal image of me (just go with it), but I feel you all must know the truth.  I have spent the better part of the afternoon rehearsing how I would say this without causing you pain or therapy for your families.  I have agonized how I would word it gently and without undue stress, however there is no easy way. 

I BURNED A BAG OF POPCORN. IT’S NOT JUST BURNT.  IT’S BLACK. TOTALLY INEDIBLE.  FUCKING TOTALLY BLACK. LIKE NOT EVEN REASONABLE.

There.  I’ve said it.  I’ve managed to pick out the white bits, but really it’s the goddamned microwave’s fault! 

THAT’S WHAT THE POPCORN BUTTON IS FOR. 

Seriously, if that button wasn’t there we would have to estimate the cooking time and who among us gives a shit about that? Oh, right.  Nurse Betty.  My bad.

Look it's Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

Look it’s Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

But other than Bree-Clone, who would stand at the microwave waiting for the popcorn to pop.  Watching minute after minute, interminable second after second as the popcorn slowly comes to white puffy heaven, only this time it went to black pieces of soot-like filth. I have more important shit to be at, like, HELLOOO, spider solitaire and ma wonderful stu-dents!  Ugh…

Anywho, I thought I would just let you all know this awful news before you heard it from God knows where and the RNC is called and they want all the surveillance tape from the cameras in the building to document what truly went down.

Jeesh, it’s not like I left a burned bag lying carelessly on the side of the road, or anything….

I appreciate your understanding and truly value our friendship.  I hope you all find a way to forgive me and move on from all of this undue tragedy.

Yours in popcorn-popping,

K