Summer Days Can Be Noisy. Bring Your Headphones. And Gas Ovens. 

The summer is spinning on and I’m trying desperately to hang on without randomly sticking my in the oven…It just occurred to me that even that wouldn’t be effective, as I have an electric oven. I guess when you see the old lady-with-her-head-in-the-oven gag, she actually owns a gas operated appliance, which obviously would do one in. An electric one would only be harmful if it was simultaneously touching water…or plugged in whilst out in the rain. But then, why would you have an oven OUTSIDE IN THE RAIN. No one would need to bake a cake outside during a monsoon. Unless you wanted to have a baked goods sale on the side of the road instead of the usual lemonade stand and having the oven outside is both convenient and a sales pitch, and people would be too excited and cause mass riots in the ‘hood since, BAKED GOODS.    Then some people would think y0u are trying to sell the oven instead of the baked goods, which would cause more discussion and chaos.

No oven outside is what I’m saying. Totally useless and makes too much noise in the ‘hood which apparently, is an issue what with all of the children home from school because ITS SUMMER HOLIDAYS AND THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SUMMER.

And no need to stick one’s head inside it, since it would also be pointless. And kinda creepy looking. Unless, cleaning. Ugh.    

What was I saying?

Right. Summer.  

It’s happening and really I just want to sit outside in the sun. It’s the best.  

Unfortunately, there are people in the universe who are not happy well-adjusted human beings who, for some unknown reason, decide that living in a neighbourhood full of children and families is a great idea until the children decide to, God forbid, laugh and play then it’s all STOP THOSE CHILDREN FROM HAVING FUN I’M TRYING TO BE QUIET HERE! And we’re all like YOU LIVE IN A NEIGHBOURHOOD WITH FAMILIES. And they’re all WELL THAT’S NOT MY FAULT. GET THOSE CHILDREN TO BE QUIET. JEOPARDY IS ON AND I CAN’T HEAR ALEX’S QUESTION! And I’m all like IT’S ACUTALLY THE ANSWER, YOU NEED TO COME UP WITH THE QUESTION GAWD DO YOU NOT WATCH JEOPARDY ON A REGULAR BASIS?! And they’re like NO BECAUSE I CAN’T FREAKIN’ HEAR IT WITH ALL THE FRIVOLITY AND FUN GOING ON!  

Hence, the oven.

Maybe I will have a baked goods sale with ovens and children and lemonade stands and garage sales and carnivals in the streets. Mags can be outside and bark at all the joyous crowds gathering then we could have firetrucks and police cars sounding their sirens and in the evening have fireworks and a bonfire and…

DID SOMEBODY SAY BLOCKPARTY??!!  

 THIS LOOKS AWESOME.  AND SCARY.  HANG ON KID! But don’t scream. That’s way too much noise.  

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Let’s Pretend Reality is Really Real

As I get older, I find it harder to keep up. Keep up with the ‘kids’, keep up with the work around the house, keep up with the bills, keep up with exercising, keep up with the ever moving ever changing world we live in. I suppose that’s normal and something everybody has to deal with, but that’s not the image people play out on social media.
If one was to believe everything according to Facebook, everybody is living a perfect well-balanced, harmonious life void of any pressures of keeping up, or staying fit or feeling great or being successful. Life According to Facebook is a veritable wonderland of rainbows and unicorns. The happiness meter is on bust and the world is one great big giant playground where all the kids are having fun and playing nice and laughing hysterically…not maniacally. That would be creepy and Facebook doesn’t do creepy. Does it? 

 Well, kinda when you think about it. That’s the premise of Facebook. We gander and peruse others’ lives. We look at the pictures. We see the posts. “I had a great time eating my lunch today.” REALLY?! How is eating lunch equal to having a good time? UNLESS, there was alcohol and a lot of friends thrown in there where you didn’t have to go back to work and the food was free and the sun was shining and….see, there are parameters about how having fun eating lunch can actually occur. Who am I to judge whether someone had fun simply by eating his/her lunch? I’m not. But if somebody puts it out there for the world to see, the world will invariably judge because, duh, that’s what human beings do.  

We judge.

We compare.

We analyse.

We decide what is good, what is bad, what is tasteful, what isn’t. It’s in our nature to simply make decisions on first impressions, be all judgey about it then move on.  

Or, like me, make fun. It’s how I roll, but then I expect the same in return.  

The perfectionist in all of us wants to post the BEST of us on Facebook for the world to dissect and analyse and examine in some sort of twisted voyeuristic play, but that’s not real life.

Nothing on there is real. Really. Not EXACTLY reality, sort of a mixed-up “let’s pretend” kind of thing.  

Image is what is being projected. Someone’s likeness to the real human underneath the pouty smile or the posed stance next to the car. No one’s life is a perfect sequence of magical events all coming together in one symphonic interlude.  

But we sure as hell like to think it does. “Hey, I got a smile from my dog. Post that!” I have done that. I do that all of the damned time and then think, “Why the fuck did I just post a picture of my snarly growly tyrannical dog who actually looks like she’s smiling for once and not ready to tear the head off some random kid walking by our house?” WELL, BECAUSE MY SNARLY GROWLY TYRANNICAL DOG ACUTALLY LOOKED LIKE SHE’S SMILING FOR ONCE AND NOT READY TO TEAR THE HEAD OFF SOME RANDOM KID WALKING BY OUR HOUSE! That’s why. Because it made me happy to think she was actually happy and I wanted the world to think my dog was happy and in turn, I was happy.

Because happy is good.

AND WHO DOESN’T WANT TO BE HAPPY?!

So post happy!

As long as everyone is under the general anesthetic knowledge that NOTHING ON SOCIAL MEDIA IS REALLY REAL, only kinda sorta real then we’re all good.

So, Truman on folks.*  

Fake is the new reality. Not to be confused with the ever-nauseating phrase ‘fake news’. Pleeeeeeaaasssse. No.

Here is a picture of my snarly growly tyrannical dog who actually looks like she’s smiling for once.


I hope it makes you happy.

*[For those of you old enough, this is a movie reference to the Truman Show. Jim Carrey. Ring a bell? No? Ugh. Nevermind….]

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing and Other Stuff I Admit to The Dog

The poor dog. She hears stuff that normally, no one would ever say. Like bad jokes. Or random rants. Or cooking tips, because my children who are no longer children refuse to participate in anything that takes place in the kitchen besides eating or drinking so the dog hears all the valuable potentially life-saving tips the wise woman wielding the spatula has learned over the past 50+ years. Sigh. And that. She hears stuff like that. Those random mini-rants that makes one look visibly shaken or in need of heavy doses of medication. Anyone who needs a sounding board should seriously consider getting a dog. Or a cat…no really, a dog.  

Cats are temperamental and have superiority complexes that make them leave the room when they sense things are getting a little boring or heavy hearted. They can’t stand needy people, so they turn and walk away. Unless you are holding a can of tuna, then they MAY stick around long enough for you to say a couple of words. Then they will interrupt with one of their self-involved mews or leg scratching and demand you lay that can down so they can eat while you drone on endlessly about your human needs and emotionally challenged offspring. Ugh.  

Dogs will at least stand there and look at you. Stare at you until you cave and give them a treat for being so kind-hearted and loyal. They’ll sit for an hour and listen endlessly hoping you will at least drop a piece of chicken their way or a bread crumb. And then wag their tails in endless joy that you even had the time to say ‘hey’ at them. Dogs. So sweet. So loyal. So not cats.

Not that I hate cats. I do like them. I had one of my own. They just are a lot of emotional work. They like you only when it suits them and even then, it’s tenuous at best. Fickle animals. They’ll lay on your head and wait for you to pet them one minute and the next, if they sense you need a cuddle, they suddenly have a million things to do like wash their paws, or watch the birds outside or chase that string on the pillow. They are busy!  

Dogs are listeners. Perfect for crazy evening drunken tirades or silly arguments about politics. They don’t talk back or disagree. They don’t even have an opinion, unless you ask them to lay down or roll over. Apparently, tricks are tricky and can only be completed followed by a treat. No treat and no trick. Hmmm….I know people like that, too.

Mags has heard it all. Parenting woes, swear-filled outbursts, overjoyed proclamations and teary worries. She still just stares up at you and lets you get it all out…then fetches a toy so you can play, because everybody likes a good toy to throw.   


Admitting to the dog that life is a roller coaster and sucks sometimes, is different than having to admit that to a real living person. People seriously have the gall to disagree or say you’re being dramatic or have an actual opinion and then give advice and expect you to follow through! What the hell?!  

I don’t want that! Just sit there like the dog and listen to what I have to yell at you. WHY CAN’T PEOPLE DO THAT?!  

Because people are not dogs.

Too bad. There would have been a treat in there somewhere…AND I WILL ALWAYS THROW A TOY TO CHASE.  
 

 

 

Conversations With…The Dog

Me:  Mags, stop eating the sock.

Mags: I love socks.  Socks are heaven.  This one is my precious.  You can’t have it.  STOP LOOKING AT IT.  IT’S MINE.

Me: If you get all paranoid and possessive I will take that from you.

Mags: Oh, no you won’t!  You have to catch me first!

Me: Oh, God.  I’m not chasing you.   This is me walking away.

Mags: Okay, but look at the sock I have.  I’m going to follow you, and jump on you and pee on the floor from how exciting this sock is.

Me:  Ugh, stop being so annoying and PUT DOWN THE DAMNED SOCK!

Mags:  No.  I love the sock.  The sock loves me.  We are inseparable.  We Looooove each other.

Me:  You know the sock is a thing and not a living breathing thing, right?

Mags: Tsk, you doubt my intelligence human.  Now stop bothering me and look at my sock.

Me:  No

Mags: YES! LOOK AT MY SOCK. IT’S A GLORIOUS SOCK!!!

Me: Stop chewing bits off of it and eating it.  You’re going to get digestive problems

Mags: NO, I WON’T!  I LOVE MY SOCK!!!!

Me:  Here look.  Cheerios.  Cheerios are better to eat than socks.   Gawd, I think I said that to one of the kids before….

Mags: WHAT?!   YOU HAVE CHEERIOS?!

Me: Yes, and I’m just going to casually lay them here on the bed so you can eat them…see?

Mags: Hmmm….but, sock though…

Me:  Cheerios, Mags.  Come and have some cheerios…yummmm…

Mags:  Well, maybe just one…

Me: *snatches sock from floor as Mags eats Cheerios*

Mags:  I love Cheerios!

Me:  I know, Mags.  I know….

Maggie 2013

It’s like she’s saying, “Fuck You and give me a sock” but in a cute puppy way…

 

The Phone Poltergeists are Taking Over the World

My phone is possessed.  I have dropped it twelve too many times and now it simply does whatever the fuck it wants.  Like switching apps at random times.  Fading my background to eerie France-like colours that was all in support of Je Suis Charlie last year, but not my choice right now.  I like actually being able to view what’s on my home screen.  While I’m still a supporter of France (who isn’t?  Uh, wine) I don’t think the colors should be fading in and out on my phone.  It also has decided to start prank-calling random people on my contact list at very inopportune times of the day. Like 5am.   I received a voice mail from the breeder of Mags desperately asking if the dog was all right since I have called her twice and hung up.  Apparently, that signals ‘dog emergency’ and she became concerned that Mags had become a crazed victim of rabies, or biting or anti-social behaviour.  All of which are more than a possibility, however, I was forced to send breeder a soothing text alighting that Mags was indeed alive and well and, albeit anti-social and a pain in my ass, still fine.  Not rabid.  Not lost.  Not eating shit off the floor…wait.  Okay, maybe that last one.  I dismissed attempting to tell her my phone called her all by itself…Suuuure it did.  Like who would believe a phone can make phone calls all by itself?  Next, you’ll tell me there’s an artificial intelligence movement where machines will eventually take over the world and we should be cautious….

ai4

 

Mmmm…K.

I’ve taken to blaming the strange events as the work of Perry the Poltergeist. Icons are being activated without my hand being anywhere near the phone and my home screen scares me.  I stare at it waiting for Pennywise from It to appear and scare the beejesus out of me.  Seriously.  I even had to alert friends on FB assuring them that I was not prank calling at 5:00am and if I ever DID do that, I certainly would have done more than simply hung up.  Gawd, do you know me at all?!  The very least would have been heavy breathing…then maniacal laughter…I’m liking this idea..

So, if you have fallen victim to my evil phone, I apologize.  AND, if you receive a prank call very early in the morning, it wasn’t me…probably.  It was that Perry…He can be such a dick sometimes…

Dec. 2014 065

Mags.  Still ok and eating shit off the floor…

 

 

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?