Id Rather Be Blogging

A Lucky Omen

2009-11-07T15:23:00.012-06:00

It happened four days ago.

I was uncharacteristically running ahead of schedule that morning; which allowed me the extreme pleasure of driving into work on nearly deserted roads.

As I turned from the highway into the suburbs, a flash at the corner of my right eye caught my attention. A golden-yellow blur was rushing from the grassy clearing and was on a direct course to cross my path. Believing it to be a Retriever or large Labrador leaping in great strides, I slowed to avoid a collision.

But as I approached, I gasped. It was a deer. A very large and majestic Doe.

Since there was no one else around, I honked in short bursts to gently warn her. She came to an abrupt halt right at the side of the road in front of me; with just meters separating us, we stared at each other as three yearling does appeared from nowhere to gallop up and stand behind her.

The blogger in me yearned to pull out my camera, but as it was pitch black outside I didn't want to scare the four beautiful creatures. Instead I sat and admired the pack as they blinked and padded the ground. Regretfully I slowly continued on to work.

So you'll just have to be satisfied with this "artist's interpretation" instead of a photo:

With a huge smile, I couldn't help but think it was going to be a good day.

Then about four hours later, I happened to win tickets to this weekend's very important Blue Bomber football game:

Yup, my lucky number just to happens to be 4.

How'd you guess?

The Scariest Part of Halloween

2009-11-02T09:24:00.015-06:00

Each year I do it.

I tell myself not to, but myself doesn't listen. Ever.

As soon as the Halloween candy appears on store shelves (sometime in July, I believe) I begin to stockpile for October 31st. To lessen the pain, I usually purchase one or two bags at a time, making sure that there is:

1) At least ONE extra bag of Rockets

2) At least ONE bag of good chocolate bars that we like (Peanut Butter Cups, Crispy Crunch and Oh Henry's).

and

3) Enough candy for oh, the entire city.

For you see, I seem to constantly be under the delusion this is still the 90's when we would be under seige by hundreds of Trick or Treaters. Nowadays we are lucky if we have a few dozen screaming at the door.

But do I adjust my shopping levels? Ha! Don't be silly! I live in a nightmarish fear of "running out".

BTW, we have NEVER "run out" of Halloween candy.
So I end up with bowls of candy left over and even unopened bags to be safely ~~hoarded~~ stowed in my desk drawer at work.

Which is a shame.

Really.

On The Road Again

2009-10-27T23:50:00.011-05:00

Aw crap.

Now I have Willie Nelson in my head.

Getoutgetoutgetout!

Sheesh.

Last week I jetted off to the bustling metropolis of Edmonton. Well, it was bustling in the West Edmonton Mall at least, where I left many monies in exchange for family gifts and a few trinkets for moi. Oh yeah, and I had a business meeting the next day too... but that was a mere afterthought. I was really there to visit the mall for the first time (but don't tell my boss that).

Only two days after returning home I was packing my bags once more. For daughter and I are here in Fargo, on a very short shopping trip before the snow flies. This will definitely need to satisfy her craving for Hollister and Abercrombie until the Spring thaw.

Even though she COULD have come here alone (she drove us in her new car), I now realize why she dragged me along:

It must be wonderful to have your very own personal pack mule.

HeeHaw HeeHaw!

Wordless Wednesday - Monstrous Owie

2009-10-21T07:27:00.004-05:00

I Have Magical Powers!

2009-10-19T08:12:00.019-05:00

It's true!

Oh no, nothing as grand as being able to produce a Patronus Charm with a wave of my wand* or summon Balrog-repelling powers like Gandalf.** Hell, I can't even dodge laser bolts from a Seeker Droid training remote.***

But apparently I CAN see and/or do amazing things others can't.

Get this:

At ALL times, I can somehow sense whether the dishwasher has clean OR dirty dishes in it! Yup, the rest of the family seek me out when faced with the confounding dilemma of determining whether to place their used plate, cup or spoon inside. And if I am not within yelling distance or fail to respond to their desperate cries of assistance, said grimy vessels are simply placed on the counter; so as not to accidentally infect clean ones that may dwell within the secret chamber below.

I have the incredible power to turn scummy bathrooms into bright gleaming spaces with the swipe of my almighty Fist of Power (with the assistance of my faithful sidekick, Mr. Clean). Terror striken citizens of the household are saved yet again from grips of mold and mildew.

I have the ability to transform the kingdom into scenes of seasonal beauty. If it weren't for me, pumpkins wouldn't be carved, trees wouldn't be decorated and eggs wouldn't be hidden.

My most fierce magcial skill is my communion with beasts... being the bearer of food, water and comfort they loyally follow me about on my journeys throughout our kingdom. But this obviously also comes with great responsibility... for I and I alone, have The Vision. For I am the only being endowed with the gift to see and clean up all thier messes.

Yes, I am magical alright. Either that, or simply a wife and mother in a sarcastic mood for Monday morning.

What magical properties do you possess? We can start a League.

* Harry Potter fans will understand
** Lord of the Rings fans will understand
*** Star Wars fans will understand
(and those Geeks of us who don't have a real life, will, sadly, understand it all and nod in nerdy agreement)

Hero made with HeroMachine at Ugo.com

Naked

2009-10-15T13:03:00.009-05:00

Crap! I couldn't believe it. How could I be so careless?

Must be getting old... to have forgotten something so important.

So personal.

So essential!

I should have headed back home when I discovered my omission; instead I kept driving to work -- reassuring myself I could get through the day without anyone noticing.

Maybe if I hide in my office, I can make it through the day unscathed.

But I had to go out sometime. Away from the privacy and protection of my room.

Luckily, I wasn't called upon for much. I made it and no one even realized. Except me.

I felt naked all day.

I never want to endure something like that again... I learned my lesson alright. Must be more diligent.

That's the last time I'll forget my Blackberry at home.

M.I.A.

2009-10-13T07:32:00.025-05:00

Oh crap.

A whole week has passed like a blur... and I have been Missing In Action online. Not only was it our Thanksgiving long weekend but I also took a vacation day Friday. And it was NO vacation, let me tell you, for I foolishly undertook the huge task of finally redecorating my craft / scrapbook / daughter's former bedroom all weekend. (It's obvious I haven't quite decided exactly what the heck to call it yet). Sponged purple walls and green shelving may be fine for a tween, but since daughter has grown up and moved downstairs to larger quarters, it just wouldn't do for my newly-squatted "creative space".

Since last Tuesday's all-night-coffee-induced-planning-session, I have been painting, buying supplies and accessories, moving crap out, moving crap back and re-organizing until last night to produce this:

Over the course of this experience, I must admit I learned a few things:

1) I learned where the hell all those rolls of scotch tape disappeared to over the years. I found it tacked up in a kajillion pieces all over daughter's walls; previously adorned with posters, pictures and numerous strings of tiny Christmas lights. Every-square-inch-where. And because of the mottled purple walls, I didn't find some pieces until I painted over them. Swearing ensued whilst scraping away strips of now soggy beigy-coloured tape.

2) I learned to don gloves when painting anything black. And I painted nearly everything that didn't move black this weekend. Desk organizers, wire magazine racks, carts, shelves... and before coming up with the bright idea of using gloves, my hands.

3) I learned it doesn't matter if there is wet paint completely surrounding them; cats will somehow discover that one square inch of unpainted surface to hop up on.

4) I learned not to face away from the door when precariously perched on a ladder delicately painting black trim on beigy walls. Obviously it is a far too tempting target for a male to pass without attempting to tickle your ribs. He nearly got a black paintbrush in the face for that one. Hubby learned not to even think of doing that again.

5) I learned that my dog will repeatedly locate the perfect place to curl up into a ball to sleep -- exactly in the spot I needed to walk by, paint or move furniture to.

6) I learned that painting is a great cardio workout. Especially when dipping a brush or roller in the tray on the table across the room, carrying it up the ladder to paint a section on the wall, descending the ladder, trduging across the room to load it up again, returning back across the room, etc, etc, etc. Repeat ad nauseum all weekend.

Until I learned those little hooks on the bottom of the paint tray actually clip the thing ONTO the ladder.

I stumbled upon that little tidbit of knowledge while finishing the LAST WALL.

Yes I am that stupid.

But I AM learning.

All Nighter

2009-10-06T07:56:00.011-05:00

I awake suddenly and to answer the first question that instantly comes to mind, glance at the clock on my nightstand.

2:25 am. Crap.

I stare at the ceiling as hubby snores loudly beside me.

My mind begins to wander... decorating ideas bombard me for the upcoming long weekend room renovation project.

Paint colours. Accessories. Window treatments. Repurposing. The exact order to move everything. Solutions to problems were being solved in rapid succession.

I take a look at the clock once more.

3:14 am. Crap again.

Tawnee snuggles in closer at my feet, laying her head on my leg. I try not to disturb her.

Mental notes are taken, to-do lists drafted and everything seems perfectly planned.

Now if I could only get back to sleep.

4:27 am. Crapity Crap Crap!

Serves me right for downing that venti no whip, non-fat, peppermint mocha with a triple shot of espresso at 10 pm last night.

But it was delish and now my weekend is planned out.

So it's a win-win. If you don't count the bags under my eyes, that is.

"Okay. Spill It."

2009-10-03T13:00:00.000-05:00

The three words that my sister began our telephone conversation with the other day. And I immediately knew exactly to what she was referring.

Yes, she reads my blog (Hi Sis!) and was wondering how the hell I acquired Mr. Depp's autograph - like some of you, by the results of my recent poll. I must say though, I am sorely disappointed; not one of you chose "that night of passion". Do you know how hard it was NOT to vote myself?? Crap.

Ah well, thank you for all your comments; here are just a few that had me in stitches in response to my question "What was Johnny Depp thanking Maureen for?":

Like The Green Stone Woman who asked "But when he thanks you for everything, what does that include?"

I shall never tell. Nor shall he. Probably not for the same reasons, sadly.

Or Tony from Trottersville who guessed: "For services rendered."

Acck! Now that sounds, erm, slightly illegal.

ReformingGeek with "You rescued him from the other Maureen, the crazy stalker that was trying to kill him."

Ha! How the hell did you know??? It was really YOU, wasn't it?

Babs-beetle obviously takes me for some kind of wretched thief with her explanation: "I know! You stole it from the person who really did spend a night in Paris with him ;)"

Well, it serves that crazed Frenchwoman right...

Poor Melinda. Under the silly delusion that I am EVER letting go of it: "Actually he's thanking you for agreeing to send the autographed picture to me after you're finished teasing your blog readers with it. :) And please remove all fingerprints & lipstick stains from it before sending it."

Ah it's such a shame she didn't leave a link. Now I shall be forced to keep it for myself. Too bad Melinda... too bad.

Kevin from The Tree Of Woe had me LOL'ing with "He thanked you for that one thing that one time. You know. That one thing."

Yeah. That thing. With the stuff. You know; the thing with that stuff.

Sistertex from Spacial Peepol was very close with: "I didn't see a choice for best Johnny Depp look alike in the pumpkin catagory."

Ah, he has indeed provided some memorable characters suitable for pumpkin-izing.

Jay from The Depp Effect, who, as one might imagine, HAS met Mr. Depp knows him all too well..."I'm guessing the darling man thanked you for being a fan and 'bothering' to write in."

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.

So how the hell did I acquire my prized possession?????

I simply

asked him for it.

Yep, I finally screwed up enough courage to write him a letter and included pictures of my Jack Sparrow artwork and pumpkin. Incredibly, it only took a few short weeks to get a response. Like Jay said, the man is "a real sweetheart, and humble enough that he does just that. *Sigh* "

Agreed Jay, *Sigh* indeed.

So remember. It never hurts to just ASK.

Just don't wait three years like this uber-timid wimp did.

Congrats to Babs for winning a "I'd Rather Be Blogging" magnet!

I hope you treasure it for many, many minutes to come as it graces your fridge or any other metal surface you may wish to deface.

The Autograph - Part Deux

2009-09-30T00:01:00.019-05:00

I keep pinching myself to make sure it's real, but either I stubbornly refuse to wake up, or it is, in fact, true.

I have Johnny Depp's autograph. Holy crap.

Not only that, but he THANKED ME.

What, do you ask, could arguably The Most Famous Actor Of Our Day and Age (not to mention People Magazaine's Sexiest Man Alive a few years back) possibly be thanking me for?

Well, let's take a poll and see if you, my fine, intelligent, creative and hopefully kind readers can deduce:

What does mega-star Johnny Depp thank Maureen... » ProProfs Polls

I'll send one random commentor a brand-spanking new Limited Edition* "I'd Rather Be Blogging" magnet (* limited to a run of 10 - erm, so far).

Stick A Fork In Me

2009-09-27T21:57:00.014-05:00

I'm done.

Yes, I can now die a happy woman.

Why pray tell?

Well, I happened to acquire THIS last Thursday:

And I did NOT literally jump for joy....

Nor even cry a teenie tiny bit...

What???? You don't believe moi?

Okay I'll admit it. I did.

Good thing the rest of the family wasn't home yet because I did my very first and probably last, happy dance. Not a pretty sight I must say; it's hard to prance about holding a picture tightly clasped to your chest.

Well That Was Rude

2009-09-24T09:47:00.013-05:00

Do you ever wish you could take back something you said?

No, not nasty things. I mean helpful things, nice things. Things that were unappreciated.

I do.

As I was walking down the hallway at work, a fellow stopped me for directions. This happens all the time and I always try to assist if I can. Although sometimes I will admit to failing miserably. But not this time. This time I KNEW where he needed to go.

So I stop, give him detailed instructions complete with effusive hand signals and colour-coded route markers to look for.

And he just walks off.

No "Thank you".

No "Gee I appreciate your help".

Not even a smile.

Just walks off.

Dammit. I wish I had given him the WRONG directions.

Like I usually do.

I Knew It

2009-09-22T08:18:00.031-05:00

I knew it would happen one day. But did I DO anything about it? Of course not. That would make too much sense.

What the heck am I talking about you ask? (Don't deny it, I heard you).

Well, it all started in 1987. Yep. Over twenty (oh, gad, really?) years ago not only was I suckered into various Tupperware, Pampered Chef, Crystalware and Mary Kay parties, I actually attended a "Plant Party"... the highlight of which was when I miraculously won the door prize. My trophy for enduring yet another night of How Much Can I Spend On Crap I Don't Need To Still Be Considered A Good Friend was a blue bowl of not-really-silk, silk flowers.

Because it is blue and my bedroom had blue in it, I plopped it up on the headboard of our waterbed that night when I arrived home (I know... am I a designer maverick or what?) and there it has sat ever since.

But then along came not one, not two but three cats. And as any cat owner will attest to, cats adore high places. The higher, the better. Ours love our waterbed headboard. It's wide and sturdy, a purrfect place to stretch, to nap, to sit regally surveying their Kingdom or to protect their throne by pacing. Back.

And forth.
And back again.
With stopovers to inexplicably smell the omnipresent not-really-silk silk flowers obstructing their otherwise clear path along the way. The only problem is even though they squeeze in-between it and the wall, with each pass the heavy bowl gets bumped a titch closer to the edge. An ominous sight when your exposed sleepy noggin is laying defenseless directly beneath it.

And as I feared, it finally happened. Yesterday after hubby had left for work and I was laying in bed, lazily planning out what to ~~avoid~~ accomplish on my vacation day, the feline equivalent to "King Of The Castle" resumed. The battle became intense with spitting and hissing and of course, culminating in the inevitable knocking of the bowl right off its lofty perch.

I looked up in the nick of time. And to my amazement, I caught it just inches from my head. I couldn't believe it! There it sat in my hand as Tawnee, Sheba and Dakotah beelined it out of the room to continue the war down the hallway.

Living with felines must have rubbed off on me. I've got the reflexes of a cat.

So now the bowl has finally, after 22 years, been banished from the headboard. I think I need to get something a titch less "80s" and a tad less blunt-instrument deadly.

After all, I may not be ~~awake~~ so lucky next time.

Set The Wayback Machine To 1984 Sherman

2009-09-17T16:00:00.005-05:00

Gadzooks! The Wayback Machine is being operated a day late! But the anomaly is only temporary; for you see it's a special occasion... the 37th anniversary of M*A*S*H hitting the airwaves is today.

I heart M*A*S*H.

Yep, back in the 70s and 80s I was ... and still am, a M*A*S*H-aholic. I couldn't wait to watch it every week. Hmmmm... I wonder if that had anything to do with my going into the healthcare field? Wouldn't be surprised.

I laughed when Frank got justifiably pranked.

I did NOT cry when Henry was unexpectedly killed....

Oh crap. Okay, I'll admit it. I did.

I still look forward to watching M*A*S*H every day on the History channel, even though I've seen it so much, I can irritatingly recite each episode verbatim. I can, but I don't... well, since I'm usually alone whilst watching it and I hate it when I irritate myself.

It's irritating.

Back in 1984, my friends and I (all fans, natch) attended a "M*A*S*H Bash" -- a hotel social while vacationing at the lake. We made costumes, shopped for accessories and created decor appropriate for the occasion.

Our group had Henry, Hot Lips, Klinger and Trapper. Hubby was Hawkeye.

And me? Who else... I was Radar - complete with a teddy bear and Grape Nehi (after all, I was the DD).

Nowadays my only M*A*S*H fashion (Mashion?) is the T-shirt that came with the Atari 2600 game in 1983.

What? You can't say that it surprises you that this Geek has the Atari game can you?

Or that she still WEARS her M*A*S*H shirt?

Well I told you I was a M*A*S*H - aholic. Duh.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some classic episodes to recite, erm watch, on Tivo before the rest of the family gets home.

You're My Only Hope

2009-09-15T08:48:00.031-05:00

Holy crap!

On Thursday it will be my 30th anniversary of working for our Healthcare Authority. (I know, I'm OLD, but obviously ~~stuck in a rut~~ extremely dedicated).

Every five after 15 years of service, we are confronted with a choice of various gifts to be bestowed upon us at a dinner ceremony in November. In the past I have chosen a watch (in 1994), a suitcase (in 1999) and a digital camera (in 2004). But this time I can't quite make up my mind.... why the hell can't they offer something I could use, like a Disneyland meet-and-greet with Johnny Depp, a trip to Hawaii (with Johnny Depp), or even a frickin' day off here (accompanied by, who else but Johnny Depp)?

So because my employer is SO unreasonable not to include Mr. Depp in ANY of my choices, I need your help. Just for background info, the watch I received 15 years ago is different from the one shown, I received a digital camera from hubby this past Christmas (but can you ever have too many of those? Especially a Blogger?) and I don't wear fancy-schmancy necklaces much....

AAAaaargh!

What gift should I choose? I'll close the poll on Friday, September 25th.

Which gift should I choose? » ProProfs Polls

And if the the fuzzy warm feeling of helping out some helpless soul (er, me) isn't enough, I'll be choosing a random responder to receive a très cool "I'd Rather Be Blogging" magnet ~~to clutter up your fridge~~ and hand-crafted one-of-a-kind thank you card featuring original artwork by Moi. I know! How awesome would THAT be? (No, really, I'm asking... at the very least it'll be worth $ 3.04)

So please help me, kind readers. You're my only hope.

UPDATE! Thank you to everyone who helped me decide... yes, I've ordered the camera! Woot! And congrats to Daisy The Curly Cat for winning a "I'd Rather Be Blogging" magnet and card.

The Recital

2009-09-12T19:48:00.001-05:00

The other day The Sting was on the classics movie channel. Gad, I haven't seen that film in a long time.

A long time indeed.

But not so long ago that I could ever forget Robert Redford's sexy smile and Paul Newman's amazing blue eyes..... mmmmm.

*Ahem *

Erm, sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah, watching The Sting.

It brought back another memory of the 70's.... not one I am overly proud of though.

You see my early teen years were spent in various drawing, sculpting and painting classes. Oh how I loved those. I never wanted to leave.

Then there were the piano lessons. I enjoyed them, but I wasn't a natural, so I had to work hard to learn and pounded those ivories for a few years. Then one day it happened. I was signed up to compete in

A Recital.

Yes, this uber non-competitive girl was headed full speed into an Accck! competition. And the piece I would play was Scott Joplin's The Entertainer, featured in the movie The Sting.

I practiced.

And practiced.

And practiced some more.

I practiced until I was thoroughly repulsed by that damn tune.

Then as the time drew near, I my panic proportionally grew. Doubt crept in and overtook me.

How the heck could I play this in front of an audience???

I couldn't.

I chickened out. Days before the recital, I withdrew my entry.

And it's only taken me about 35 years to listen to that song again without cringing in shame.

Any Day Can Be Caturday!

2009-09-09T00:01:00.020-05:00

Yes, I love cats. I have three after all. I am an Unapologetic Cat Person.

This UCP loves Daisy and Harley at Daisy the Curly Cat.

This UCP loves I Can Has Cheeseburger and the LOLs it never fails to provide.

This UCP loves Cute Overload and their uber-cute kittens!

This UCP loves Simon's Cat and his hilarious cartoons.

This UCP loves Catster where each of my cats are listed.

This UCP loves the Animal Rescue Site that does such wonderful things for cats too.

And this UCP loves all my bloggy friends who have / had cats, past and present:

Like Lily and Tinsel at Of Cats and Cardstock, Mabel at Lady Banana's, Sukie, Livvie and Mitzi at Babs-Beetle's Simply Cats, Prudence and Gus* at JD's I Do Things Blog, Pickle, Bailey, Sandy, Aspen and Sally at Toni's Moved to the Mountains blog, Nerissa and Portia at Life! Vegas Style, Lucky, Shadow and Stinky at The Junk Drawer Blog, Toby, Nouri and Gandhi at The Green Stone Woman, Fidget at Spacial Peepol, Fluffy at PG's Annoyingly Boring? blog, Macka and Snijeg at Be.Bartlog, Reforming Geek's er... "Cat" the cat, Mamie and Ike at Dorky Dad, Moses, Bear and Emmy over at Drowsey Monkey's site, Sugar at Jill's Twipply Skwood blog, and Seamus at Unfinished Rambler. *

What this UCP doesn't love is someone telling me I CAN'T visit my friends, I CAN'T watch cat videos, or do anything CAT-RELATED today.

Aw Hell No. If I want to I damn well will.

If you don't want to, that's perfectly fine. That's what is great about the Internet. Everyone has choices and there are plenty of other things out there if you don't want to read about cats.

But this UCP does. And I will NOT have someone telling me I can't.

So Epic Fail Urlesque! (no I am NOT linking you)

For foolishly attempting to establish "A Day Without Cats on the Internet" today, you can:

* Gah! Sorry I missed you Gus! If I've missed YOUR feline, I apologise; please add your cat-link in the comments so I have even MORE feline-filled destinations to enjoy!

Technically They ARE Animals...

2009-09-07T12:01:00.018-05:00

...and since I AM a self-professed animal lover, I really shouldn't be creeped out by spiders.

But when I nearly walk face first into them, or like last night, discover them crawling down the wall of my bedroom, it's tough to love the hairy-legged bulbous-eyed creatures. Even teensie-tiny ones.

Like this guy.

So instead of the typical arachnophobic reaction of:

1) screaming like a schoolgirl

2) running for a wad of kleenex to squish it into an spidery-shaped blob

I decided to humanely perform a "catch and release" on the eight legged home invader. I popped a clear cup over it and slid a piece of cardboard underneath, safe for transport to the wilderness that is our backyard.

It was easy enough to catch and once captured, the spider went into "stealth mode"; it folded up and became docile, something I had never witnessed before.

I nearly went "Awwwww... poor thing..."

Nearly.

Until it suddenly freaked out and began violently scuttling about, trying its damedest to break free of it's clear plastic prison.

The whole time it was bashing itself around the cup I was going EW, EW, EWWWW! and freaking out myself. As I made a beeline for the back door, I prayed the cardboard didn't slip or buckle.

I was also trying my best to push disturbing images of fangs and pointy legs scurrying up my arm out of my head.

Finally outside and true to my "Animal Lover" monniker, I ~~tossed~~ gently laid the arachnid onto the fern leaves in the back yard where it belonged.

Yes, I love animals.

But I love a peaceful spider-free night of sleep a helluva lot more.

Guard Rat

2009-09-04T00:01:00.133-05:00

The other day while at London Drugs ~~wandering aimlessly around~~ shopping for a few incidentals, I happened across the Back To School section. Or what was left of it that is - sparse remains picked over and strewn about, a sure sign that summer vacation was at an end. One lonely item on the bottom shelf caught my attention though; a solitary black Thermos "Lunch Lugger". Resembling a mini-cooler, it was perfect to house my Tupperware-encased lunches and keep them cold for an entire workday.

Which is exactly what I needed for my office, for an evil presence has raised its ugly head at work. Yes at a hospital, in our staff room, The Dreaded Lunch Burglar has brazenly attacked - nicking morsels from our department's fridge.

My meals, wrapped in plastic bags and labeled with my name in bold black Sharpie have been safe so far. I prefer to think it's because The Dreaded Lunch Burglar hasn't found mine hidden in the back yet, rather than the possible fact that my lunches may very well suck.

But I'm not waiting to find out. My food is now safe, sound and cold in my office.

Ha! Take THAT, Dreaded Lunch Burglar... you'll not pilfer my Lunch Lugger. Not while Guard Rat is faithfully protecting it.

Grrrrr!

Set The Wayback Machine to 1852 Sherman

2009-09-02T00:01:00.023-05:00

I have potatoes in my blood.

Don't panic; it's not some dire carbohydrate-related medical condition... for you see, it's simply that I'm half-Irish. Back in 1852, my ancestors were part of the massive flood of immigrants to North America, escaping starvation in Ireland because of the Great Potato Famine.

You might say that because of this lowly vegetable, I'm here... so it's not surprising that I love them.

I love them baked, steamed, boiled, stewed, fried, mashed, scalloped, hash-browned, dumplinged, chipped, pancaked and saladed. (Yes, I DO have an impressive culinary vocabulary, don't I?)

And for the very first time, I tended my own little pot of spudlets this year.

Holy Crop! Our teenie tub of tubers totally transformed into tasty taters!

Oh sure, they'll only last two meals, but me ancestors, gosh and begorrah, they'd be proud.

The Price Of Apathy

2009-08-30T00:01:00.070-05:00

I was still shaking an hour later.... further proof that I'm a Colossal Grade-A Wuss.

But in this situation all I could think of was Spiderman. Yes, you read that right.

Spiderman.

You know; the part where Peter lets a criminal go free, only to discover that same fugitive kills his Uncle Ben (ooops, sorry... I hope I didn't spoil it for you).

So what happened? Well last night as I was leaving home to pick up daughter at work, I noticed two cars stopped up the street, side-by-side facing me. I guess they were having a discussion or getting directions. I wondered how the heck I was going to get past them as they were blocking both lanes. As I walked around the back of our van, the first car filled with young party-goers suddenly left and squealed past me at top speed. I came this close to yelling "slow down!" at them. After all, we're on a residential street with little kids and it was only about 8:30 pm. The second car, also filled with teens or early-20-somethings, pealed past me, following close behind their friends.

And I couldn't believe my eyes. As he passed, the DRIVER of the second car was pulling a long swig from a beer.

Holy crap! I made a mental note of the licence plate. I repeated it over and over and when I got in my car, wrote it down.

Do I follow them? What the heck would I do then?

My mind was in turmoil. All I could think of on my way to the nearby mall was what if something happened, what if someone got hurt, because I DIDN'T do anything?

So when I parked 5 minutes later, waiting for Daughter to come out I did it.

I called 911.

I've never called 911 before.... and asked timidly if this was the right place to report a drinking driver. It was.

After making the report, I began to shake. I felt like a tattletale, scared that somehow this was going to bite me in the butt somehow.

But I know I did the right thing.

Unlike Peter Parker, I didn't want to find out later what the price of apathy would be.

Second Thoughts

2009-08-28T08:10:00.004-05:00

It was a terrible storm. After weeks of a dismal cool summer, a few days of 30+ temps had many vacationers in a good mood. Finally it was beach weather.

But I didn't like it. Give me 24C max, any day.

But I digress...

With the soaring temps came the typical associated evening thunderstorms. And overnight it was was a doozy. Lightning, thunder, even two inch hail in some areas of town.

While driving to work the light show continued. Fork and sheet lightning lit up the nasty-looking black clouds as thunder rumbled an ominous warning.

And that's when I realised it probably wasn't one of my most brilliant decisions to wear a huge silver necklace, thick silver bracelet and all these silver rings outside.

I was a tempting target just begging for a bullseye.

Two Scoops

2009-08-26T00:01:00.004-05:00

On Monday I decided a light brekkie was in order. After a gluttonous weekend of oh so sinful thick-sliced bacon with fried eggs Saturday and French toast slathered with butter pecan syrup on Sunday, a healthy bowl of cereal was just what my clogging arteries were crying out for.

But when I opened the nearly full box of Raisin Bran that's been sitting in the pantry for some time, I swiftly came to the conclusion it had gone stale. Er, I guess it's been a tad more than "Some Time" since I bought it. More like somewhere between "Pretty Gosh-Darned Long Time" and "The Beginning of Time" I would surmise.

Crap.

But then I discovered another box hiding in there, still sealed (obviously we like our Raisin Bran; either that, or it was a two-for-one sale, which is far more likely).

Woot! This one was still fresh - well, freshER.

But how the heck could I justify throwing away a nearly whole box of Raisin Bran? I know! I could save the raisins, obviously THE MOST important part of the whole mix. I mean, without the raisins, it would just be called "Bran". Ick.

So I poured the cereal out on my kitchen counter, picked out the still-edible raisins and threw away the stale flakes.

Oh yes I did.

But then that gave me pause to wonder... what the heck is "Two Scoops" exactly? How does one measure a "scoop"? Because what I extracted certainly fell short compared to the photo on the box:

Then again, once I added them to my freshER box of Raisin Bran, it probably came close.

Good thing I was on vacation. I had and the house to myself and the time for these momentous discoveries that would otherwise go er, un-momentously un-discovered.

Ear Bud Hazard

2009-08-23T09:53:00.001-05:00

The other day I was walking down the sidewalk, close behind a woman wearing an iPod. That in itself isn't such an noteworthy occurance for I have been known, on occasion that is, to actually walk a tad.

It's true!

Like from my office to the parkade, from the car door to my front door... you know; that inconvenient thingy some people call "exercise".

Anyway, what made it noteworthy was that it got me thinking about the hazards of wearing an iPod-like-device in public.

We've all read about the potential for hearing loss, ear infections or being distracted from treacherous traffic conditions... yada, yada, yada.

But I have now discovered the WORST menace yet from wearing ear buds among the general population. And I shall forgo the fame and fortune I would most certainly garner by publishing my findings in some Hoity-Toity Scientific Journal™ to instead announce it here as a public service to all ~~three of~~ my loyal readers.

The absolute most wretched danger from wearing ear buds is:

The wearer not realizing they're singing horribly off-key at the top of their lungs to an awful song they don't even know the words to.

At least it's incredibly hazardous to those of us forced to listen whilst walking behind them.

* The HTSJ is apparently the best one. Or so they claim.

The Bestest Part

2009-08-20T18:16:00.001-05:00

Yesterday Daughter and I returned from a quick four day road trip to Minneapolis. It was our third such trek this year, just Mother, Daughter and of course, Sam.

So what, you may ask (go ahead, ask....) was the bestest part of the past four days and the 1700+ kilometers we racked up?

Was it the two days of ~~self-inflicted leg torture~~ intense shopping yet again at the Mall of America; which apparently, has become our second home?

Or maybe it was when we found ourselves overwhelmed with emotion, staring in awe when within inches of the monolithic rusted hull of the Titanic in the Science Museum of Minnesota?

Perhaps it was witnessing Travis Barker's amazing drum solo as he flew and spun over the mosh pit at the rockin' Blink 182 / Fall Out Boy / Panic! At The Disco concert...

Nope. Believe it or not, it was none of those fantastic events.

The bestest part of the trip was:

relaxing safe and sound at home when I discovered that the two gut-wrenching severe storms I had at times, blindly, just plowed our rented Jeep Liberty through on the Interstate had spawned tornados.

Holy crapoly.