On expressing yourself

Let me start this blog posting by saying I am extremely grumpy today. I don't know why I just am. I had trouble sleeping which probably has everything to do with it. It might also explain my crazy line of thinking...."follow me kids. I know the way." On the surface today would sound like most peoples idea of a great day off. One of those days where you can stay in your PJ's as long as you want. You could eat chocolate for breakfast because after all it's Christmas time and isn't that what you do? I took a hot shower until all the warm water ran out just because I could. It had all the makings of a fantastic day.


Yah but is it ever that simple? Of course not. If it was I wouldn't be writing about it. Wouldn't that be an interesting installment. "Hi everyone I did nothing today and it was great and we had fun and it was so super we are doing it again tomorrow". Yawn. Well break out the glass shards for me to eat if I have to "enjoy" this day again. I woke up grumpy and stayed grumpy. Nothing went right but then nothing really went really wrong either. I won't bore you with the details. For the sake of getting to a more interesting topic let's just agree that today sucked. Good. It's nice to be right. At least that went the way it was supposed to. Yeesh!!

So here I am at 11:00 pm pondering about waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Then it occurred to me. What the hell does that expression even mean? Most expressions make sense if you think about them. A bird in the hand is definitely worth two in the bush. Hell it's probably worth 20 in the bush....unless you are scared of birds then it would be more like that old Alfred Hitchcock movie where people are getting their eyes pecked out. Thanks for the nightmares Mr. Hitchcock. Let's see you put your finger out for a sweet little chickadee now.

What about "the writing is on the wall". Which loosely translates to you are being stupid for not knowing this so I took the liberty of putting Jiffy marker to the wall board. Read it dummy!! Or having to "pay through the nose" which means you might as well pass a watermelon dude because this is going to really hurt. And I think we'd all agree that it's obvious what would happen if we put a bull in a china shop. Hope you brought your platinum Visa card with you.

Then there are a few expressions that seem somewhat intuitive but maybe require a little bit more thought such as "painting the town red". I'm going to sound smart now but I will confess that I had to look it up. Here it comes, get ready for it......While most of us may not know that there was a drunk guy and his friends who back in 1837 actually went around and painted parts of their town.....did you catch it? I sounded like I actually knew something cool. Trust me that doesn't happen often. I like to revel in those moments where I can. Anyway even without me telling you what it was based on you could probably imagine that to paint a town could be an exuberant and gutsy thing to do. It could be for example a great way to get back at your neighbors who say actually painted their fence bright orange. Yes, orange. I probably don't need to give you the address. Just drive to my house and you'll know the place. Don't get it confused with the orange house down the street. Apparently orange is the new white in my neighborhood. To get back to the point you could probably figure out that painting the town any color is kind of a rowdy thing to do even without knowing that it actually happened many years ago.

Another good example would be to hear something "on the grapevine". I don't think I need to explain that this is a bit of a stretch in thinking. Grapes really have nothing to do with information sharing....well unless it's in the form of too much wine but that's another blog entirely. The term is believed to have come from comments made by soldiers back in the mid 1800's to describe the twisted path ....not unlike a grapevine....that information was passed from one person to another often ending up incorrect at it's final destination. Wow, twice in one blog. She's on a roll people. Yah....I looked that up too. Sorry to disappoint you.

So all this thinking...which at best is a dangerous thing to do when you are this grouchy anyway....led me back to the expression "waking up on the wrong side of the bed". How did this expression come about? My brain started getting squirrely as it often does when these ridiculous topics jump into my head. I imagined a well groomed, snooty looking man standing around drinking brandy with some buddies regaling tales of his horrible day and pinning all the blame on rolling left instead of right to get out of his over sided bed with 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and saying "har har har" as they all sympathized with his poor fortune. Hence the term was born.

Okay, I'll be honest. I did the research on this too. You'd think I was back in university for goodness sake. For those of you with enquiring minds several hundred years ago it was deemed unlucky to do anything on the left side first. That included getting out of the left side of your bed, putting on your left shoe first, or otherwise anything on that side.

So for those of you who eat left-overs, are left-handed, or who have left-wing political views watch out. The world is crumbling around you. You are best to just stay in bed and for goodness sake don't get out on the left side already. And for those of you whose partners sleep on the right hand side of the bed you now know just how selfish and spiteful they are for dooming you to a life of unrest, hardship, and misfortune. I suggest that tomorrow morning you crawl right over their pitiful sleeping selves as you ensure that your day starts the right way. Make sure to knee them in the ribs as you go. After all, isn't that what they deserve for stealing the lucky side of the bed anyway and not even telling you about it? I'm just saying it's a good that you have a true friend like me to tell you these things. After you finish climbing over them, watch as they roll out the left side. Look how grouchy they are. I told you. It's that damn left side of the bed that puts people in that mood. Now you know.

Tis the season

So last weekend I took the kids to the mall to see Santa. It was a bit of a crazy day so I should have known that things would not run as smoothly as I had expected. I'm not sure why I haven't figured out this eternal truth but things rarely go as expected....hence this blog was born.

We arrived at the mall and walked up to the reasonable looking line to see Santa. Two young ladies dressed as elves approach me and politely informed me that getting in line now was fine but that we might be waiting only to be turned away before Santa gets to us. Ask me how impressed I was at that moment. A sudden flash back to the hour we spent madly running around the house. Finding clothes that the children hadn't suddenly outgrown in the week since I bought them, wiping who knows what from their faces, curling hair, wetting down cowlicks, one last trip to the washroom, where did their mitts go, "Seriously you lost them again?", and then out the door. With my flashback done I realize the two ladies are still waiting for me to respond. In my head I hear "Oh we will be seeing Santa today my little elfy friends. We will see him even if I have to tackle a security guard to do it." I smile pleasantly and join the line.

We shuffle along with all the other overheated cranky families that decide to partake in the joyfulness of this activity. All of us with big smiles for our kids because after all this is what childhood wonder is about. Seeing this magical person who brings you your hearts desire. At any other time of year we would warn our children to stay away from this guy but now like teenagers waiting for Justin Bieber autographs we stand there in anticipation of our 2 minutes and a box of stale cookies with creepy woodland creatures painted on it. Okay, I can't honestly say if Justin Bieber also gives out such cookies with his autographs but you know what I mean.

After an hour we are at the front of the line. The lady with the clipboard smiles at me and asks that I commit to the photos I want even before they are taken. What kind of backwards set-up is this? Would you agree to buying glasses before your eyes were checked? But this is the way it's done apparently so I commit to 3 sheets. I am told this will equal almost $60.....Twenty per sheet and 2 hours of my life that I'll never get back. But we get cookies. Super.

So the kids climb up on Santa's lap and we get our 1 minute and 32 seconds.....give or take a few for the kids to share all their dreams, take the shot, pick a pose, take previously mentioned creepy cookies, get all of our stuff, and "NEXT!!". "Oh, and don't let the door hit you on the way out". They print the pictures only for me to discover in my 6 seconds to approve the shot that I failed to notice Santa’s eyes are closed, he has what looks like blood in his beard, and the color is all wonky. Awesome.

We leave but return a week later to get free re-takes that were pre-arranged when I advised the mall of our situation. Seems like the thing to do right? Oh....so wrong. Sometimes you are just better off not testing fate my friends. Another hour of running around the house but at least this time we will get to walk right up to the front of the line. We get to the mall for Santa the sequel. Dirty looks from moms with preschoolers who have been waiting for an hour. A few of them assuming I'm an idiot for going to the wrong end of the line-up. I see them give that nasty little smirk we all know so well. The one that says "You're so dumb and the line is filling up fast but I'm not going to help you because I'm too busy gloating". I'd like to take a moment to welcome Karma into my little story. Buckle up smirky moms.

We are first to see Santa and he looks well rested and chipper. They call us up. Now this is the way every year should go. But wait. Andrew grabs my hand and says "I don't feel well". "Slow deep breaths Hun, you'll be okay". He sits on Santa’s lap and they get the first picture. He wasn't smiling at all so they do a second shot. As I glance at the computer screen to see how this image turned out he jumps up, runs about 8 steps from Santa, and covers his mouth. I swear I heard Chariots of Fire playing in the background as I dashed around the counter. Just as I arrive with bag in hand he pukes. I believe it to be a Christmas miracle that he neither lost it on Santa's lap and that I also got the bag there just in time. However it maybe not so fortunate that the only bags available happened to be clear plastic sheaths for placing the photos in.

Everyone waits and watches as Andrew continues to be sick because I haven't approved this photo yet. Glorious moments to remember. Because we complained the first time they are scared to bump us and move to the next kid and so they stand there watching. Everyone is waiting for us and I feel the piercing hatred from all the line-up moms. I hope their kids pick their noses for their photos....that's all I'm saying.

I should apologize to all children in line who will never think of seeing Santa in quite the same way again. And then all the people in the Bay who climbed off the escalator and had no choice but to have a front row seat for round two. Holiday memories are so special. It's about spending time with your family....even if that family is making you hold a clear plastic bag of their vomit with dozens of witnesses.

Everybody sing "Fa la la la la".



On being judged

My name is Colleen and I admit that I have a problem. An addiction of sorts.....to diet Pepsi. I'm not sneaking into dark alleys in seedy neighborhoods to buy my stuff. I can get it just about anywhere at any time of day and that's alright with me. Probably half the reason that I drink so much of it. There really is nothing better on a hot day. Okay, a few of you will argue beer and I won't take that away from you.....but think about how much you love cold beer.....that's how much I love an icy Pepsi. It's true. Okay, I know it's not that exciting. I didn't promise you fireworks. You'll be alright though. So imagine my surprise today when I was judged by a complete stranger because of my love of the second most popular cola drink on the market today.

I went to the bottle depot which I admit is not my favourite activity. Actually I've been putting it off for sometime so today I finally broke down and went. Of course I'm happy to get my deposit back and to help save the planet in a small way but the sticky floors and pungent odor are not so rewarding for do-gooders. Why is it that we accept that the bottle depot will be a train wreck when we freak out if there is a water spot on our glass at a restaurant?....it's proof they washed the damn glass yet we send it back and talk amongst ourselves about the crappy job they are doing. It would seem that bottle depots are one of the few exceptions to our standards. We don't expect clean floors and we don't expect customer service either. It's nice if the person sorting your stuff says hi but if they don't it's not like we'll storm out and vow to never return. Right? We all accept that the bottle depot is in it's own category.

So I take my number and push my cart with my 3 bags of empties up to the next open spot. Inside my bag are a few milk jugs and the odd diet Coke bottle when I couldn't get my first choice but 99 % of my contribution is diet Pepsi cans. So there I am struggling with the knot on the garbage bag as I get used to the smell of the place. Okay, that was a lie....can we ever really get used to it? I knew I wasn't the only one. Finally win the battle with the bag....smell...still there. I open the bag and pour it onto the table. The guy in the next spot looks over and says "Wow, somebody really likes diet Pepsi." Are we supposed to talk? I never know. The bottle depot is one of those places where the regular social rules are somehow altered just a little. What do I say back? "Wow, somebody really likes rum....a lot" or "Holy crap dude you must have had a huge party and I bet you got completely smashed". So I nervously smiled and said "Yes, someone does like Pepsi". Did I just say "someone does"? That someone is me!! I think, Colleen, own that and be proud....loud and proud. Woo!! But somehow I think I'll be viewed as the bottle depot freak for admitting that it was indeed me who drank all that pop. I suddenly feel ashamed. First because maybe I have a problem that is so noticeable that even the guy slurring his words next to me who I might add had to actually make a second trip out to his car to get the rest of his empties is so gob smacked that he breaks the cardinal rule of the bottle depot and comments on someone elses returns. Secondly because I somehow implied that maybe I'm just the poor fool who has to bring these empties back. Like I'm some sort of Pepsi enabler. That if I didn't support someone habit maybe they could live a better life free of their demons. I realized today that I'm more willing to let a stranger think I'm ruining another persons life rather than admit that it was indeed me who drank the Pepsi. Every single one of them. Yes, $66.95 worth of empties.....at 5cents a can I'll let you do the math if you wish....just don't tell me how many that is. I'm capable of figuring it out myself but I'm unwilling to face the gravity of my problem. I can quit you know. I just don't want to......."My precious."

The girls guide to avoiding an axe murderer

This blog entry could have just as easily been called "I should have known". I just got back from another interesting first date. I would like to say that I think I have more than my fair share of these. Apparently my perfect match is a man who should be in an orange jump suit with numbers on it....you can decide if it's from a jail or an locked hospital ward. Oh what fun we will have....

As always I am sharing my experience with you so that you will know the telltale signs of Mr. Crazypants early in the evening and can start planning your escape route and a back-up plan if he figures out what you are doing. Colleens special hint: A pen and paper to write a note to the waitress to call for help is always a good idea too.

The signs as I have seen them:

1. He calls to postpone your date by over 3 hours because he had something "really important that suddenly popped up"......this might be something like a World Cup soccer game for instance that has been scheduled for......oh I don't know......like the last 4 years. Those can really creep up on yah when you least expect it. Of course I didn't know that was the reason for delay until I had already arrived....apparently he failed to pick up on the exasperated look on my face as he was informing me of this......yah. Of course your date may have another emergency like having to buy groceries, balance a cheque book, or clean the fish tank....my example is just to give you a very general idea of what sorts of things fall into the category of true emergencies.

Where all great relationships start....apparently

2. He asks you to meet him at a Canadian Tire for your first date. When you insist on meeting him at the restaurant he may seem a little annoyed because he's not done his shopping. This is another great clue that he might not be the One. However you may have driven for an hour to meet him and be hungry. Trust me ladies....don't be fooled. It's not going to get any better once you get there.

3. He's never even heard of Lactose Intolerance and may look overly puzzled by the term. He's even more fascinated by the fact that the restaurant offers selections that are lactose free. "Why on earth would they do that?" he might say to the waitress. This is the Universe tapping you on the shoulder now. Pay attention....the 2x4 is coming if you miss it....followed by the Mac truck.

Danger, Danger

4. He may say that his only allergy is to the sun....because.....wait for it.....wait for it.....he sometimes gets a sun burn if he forgets sunscreen. Believe it!! You read that right my friends. Proud to say that I was able to refrain from suggesting he gets an Epi-pen for his severe allergy. I know....you thought it too didn't you?

5. When asked if he was a good student when he was a kid he replied "What consistutes a "good" student?" using his hands to do quotations in the air? It's small talk buddy......just answer the damn question.

6. He tells you he used to wear a mini-dress before every one of his hockey games because it was good luck. I know I should have left it alone.....but seriously how could I not ask? I just had to know how he discovered it was lucky. He went on to explain that he saw it.....and bought it.....yes....bought it for this purpose. It wasn't just laying around he actually shopped for it. Then after he wore it the first time his team won so he just knew that now he had "a good excuse to wear a mini-dress that nobody could argue with". I kid you not!! Keep in mind this is a first date and I hardly know him. The fun is just beginning.....read on. Beep beep. Mac truck approaching.

7. Moving onto other topics he mentions that he once had a guy break into his house and steal $11, 548 worth of stuff.......I almost asked...."$11, 548 and how much change?" Turns out it was probably good I didn't ask that because he went on to say that he "could have just murdered the guy who did it". While this sounds like a common statement try to imagine it said with a 3 second pause just before the word "murdered" and a sudden change to what could best be described as his crazy-eyed look. But wait.....don't run.....he'll chase you. You need to find a way to back away slowly and seem as unthreatening as possible. This is where the pen and paper comes in handy. Don't get caught writing the note though. It might make him mad enough to..........murder you.

My favourite little monkey and his visit to a hospital. Hopefully one very far away.

8. He works at a hospital even though he "just hates sick people". Again add the 3 second pause before "hates". He goes on to explain that he really likes helping people. Hmmmm.....by putting a pillow over their faces so they stop being sick? Oh, and by the way he knows how many people died at his hospital this month. Okay....running is now warranted. At least there is a chance you might get away.

9. He offers to pay the bill for dinner but says to you "if you want that waitress to get a tip you should probably leave some money for her". Classy!!

Amazingly it wasn't as scary at the time as it sounds....but I think I was in shock. I've dated enough crazy people to confidently say that this one is just reclusive crazy. Besides, if all else fails I can always run outside into the sunshine being that I'm only a little bit allergic to it.

To the park and back baby

Now I've gone and started something. My sweet 8 year old daughter Camryn came to me tonight and said "Mommy, could I please go to the park by myself?" Trying hard not to have that "are you drunk?" expression on my face I heard the words coming out from my mouth "Sure". Argh!! Did I seriously just say yes? Now on the surface you are probably asking "Colleen is the park on the other side of a freeway? Is it in the forest next to a bears cave? What's the big deal?" For those of you who haven't yet met Camryn she is a wide eyed, energetic, wild critter of a kid. Stopping to check for cars is not in her vocabulary. The park is actually just across the street and technically because we live on a road that is a cul-de-sac she could stay on the side walk the entire way. In my defense there are two driveways into parking lots on that sidewalk and although the odds of a car actually coming down this lonely little side street is minimal I still cringe at the thought. It takes longer to put on my shoes than to actually make it to the playground but I can only imagine a surprise parade of Semi trailers coming down the street as my daughter plays Frogger on the roadway.

I go over the rules once again with her knowing full well she's only thinking about getting to the park and not hearing a word of what I'm telling her. I pretend that I didn't notice and turn my sweet car-darting child out into this 150 feet of chaos. Okay it's a pretty safe neighborhood but that's not the point!! I resisted following her which I think deserves a super sized hero cookie. One with chunks of chocolate in it. Gooey melty chunks.....Mmmm chocolate. Then before I finish my wonderful chocolate cookie fantasy she's back. Expecting for her to say that a creepy man with a big dog chased her in his truck for 4 blocks while a thunderstorm roared in and she was almost zapped by downed electrical wires she says "No kids there, I'm bored". How can she be bored after such an adventure? She crossed the street and went to the park all alone!! How is that boring? My mind raced and my heart almost stopped and she's "bored". Sigh. Children these days. What does it take to entertain them? I blame TV.

Things I wouldn't know otherwise

I have recently come to realize that there are so many things I have learned because of parenthood and pet ownership that I would never have discovered otherwise. I had a light bulb moment this afternoon while cleaning the house. My place has been somewhat neglected over recent months as we battled every cold and flu bug the world could throw at us. Let's just say we probably kept the walk-in clinic and neighborhood pharmacy in business. Anyway, I finally got the cleaning bug today which rarely happens at the best of times but it is spring and so I got down to it.


I did the usual dusting, vacuuming, and tidying type stuff. As I neared the kitchen area I was oblivious to the treasure awaiting me. I've had a box of coolers on the floor for some time now. I had drank one probably about a year ago and discovered it had a flavour that was not appealing to me personally but being frugal decided it made sense to keep these coolers in case someone pops over and really wanted something other than strawberry milk. Well the dust settled in on this poor box of wild berry coolers. I guess nobody wanted to come over last year for coolers and a helping of H1N1. You people are so fickle. Anyway, today I decided it was time to get rid of these things once and for all. I bent down to pick this box up when I hear "rip". The bottom of the box had stuck to the floor and tore right off. What you ask could this box ripping, super glue substance be? Turns out it was dog urine people!! I told you he pees and I don't know about it. I now have proof. I am not sure how many moons ago the dog must have peed on this box but it was now firmly stuck to my hardwood floor. Sigh. The dog of course comes over to inspect with his little tail wagging. He looks at me like "Whose a good boy? Bark. I am!! Rub my belly....pleeeease!!" Given how long ago this must have occurred I decide there is no point in even thinking about yelling at him for it. He's just so thrilled I'm looking at him and he nuzzles in for a cuddle. Sigh again.




So I get busy cleaning this super substance while I grumble about getting thrown off track with my other cleaning. I'm certain to run out of steam now before I complete the tasks that I went in knowing about, let alone the ones that just spring up on you when you are on a roll. The first layer is mostly a cardboard like substance that comes off fairly easily. I pat myself on the back. This is going well and I should be done in no time. Phew!! The second layer appears to be some other type of colored paper and with a bit of scrubbing comes off without too much trouble as well. Wow. The third layer is an almost indescribable substance. It looks like someone took a layer of white paint and slopped it on the floor. Not just regular white paint but melamine. For those of you who aren't familiar with melamine paint it is basically a liquid plastic version of paint that sticks like nothing you can imagine. And now it's on my hardwood. Or at least a reasonable impersonation of it is.


I first discovered melamine when I bought a house with painted tile counter tops. Now I didn't buy the place because of this feature. I know what you're thinking. Who the heck wouldn't want white painted tile counters in a kitchen? Me that's who!! I thought it was kind of a weird thing to do but everything else about the place worked and was a good price. My then husband and I figured we would be able to remove the paint and save the counter tops. If you are thinking "Were you drunk Colleen?" then you are clearly familiar with melamine paint. We worked on that counter top for weeks and weeks to remove the paint. I'm talking paint removers that could kill you, sanders that wore down, chisels that just cracked the tile but didn't remove this paint, and a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears.....not necessarily in that order. More like sweat, tears, blood, tears, sweat, blood, tears and then some cursing. Lots of cursing at the end. Finally we just said screw it and repainted the stupid melamine back on. Awesome right? If you can't beat 'em then throw your hands up and invite them in for coffee.



So to find this type of substance today as the third layer stuck to my hardwood floor I just about cried. Okay, I didn't almost cry but I probably said some bad words. Yes, yes I did say some very bad words. So sue me!! I started scrubbing. Eventually to my surprise the stuff started to lift away. Hooray I was thinking this is a Christmas miracle. I know it's almost June, but I can have a Christmas miracle in May if I want to okay. After another 30 minutes of full out scrubbing I get almost all the white paint off the floor. So what do you think I find underneath? Polished hardwood. Nope. Money? Dream on. Willy Wonkas Golden Ticket? Guess again. I find a damn bar code. Yes, a bar code on the floor. The ink beautifully imprinted into the wood. Do you think I can get that sucker off? Nope. It's on the floor and I'm pretty sure it's permanent. Is this a sick joke? I overcame melamine!! The substance that can not be removed. I conquered that to be stopped by stupid little lines? Grrr. That is like thinking you've climbed Everest. You scream "Woo hoo, I conquered Everest" when your guide says...."Um, you wanted Everest? Dude, I'm so sorry, I thought you said Mount Avarest. My bad. Guess you're all disappointed and stuff, hey? Wow, that would have been really cool to have climbed Everest don't you think?"And all you want to do is punch him in the face but you don't because it won't mean you climbed the right mountain anyway. Sigh.


Okay, for those of you just joining us here's my little story again. I get this really cute dog and he's all loving and stuff. I buy some coolers that look really great but end up not being my favourite kind. The people who make these coolers opted against regular cardboard for the boxes and instead decided to make it all fancy and stuff. Who wouldn't? I leave the coolers on the floor and the dog pees on them. Didn't notice for a long time. Whoops. Find 237 layers of fancy stuff stuck to my floor. No big deal right? WRONG. I work really hard removing layers and think, wow a cooler would be great right about now. But wait, the dog peed on them and maybe I don't really want one after all. Besides they tasted yucky even without the dog pee so now I really don't think it's what I want. It sinks in that my reward for working so hard is a bar code. Wow, that wasn't on my gift registry at all!! Who asks for that. Okay maybe somebody would but not anyone normal. Seriously. I swear lots but my kids weren't home so only the dog hears it as I rub his belly so it's not that bad. Then I realize I did gain valuable wisdom that one could not have unless they lived through this experience...or know someone who writes blogs about this kind of thing. So now we all know that dog pee mixed with plastic paint (aka crazy, sticky, plastic, probably causes cancer stuff) and bar code ink will ruin your hard wood floors. Of course shouldn't we have just know this anyway? Sigh.

A penny here and a penny there....

So recently I went through the drive thru lane at a popular fast food chain. I know what you're thinking....You Colleen? You who has so much time to cook a good meal? Why would you go to the drive thru? I have no good answer for this. Maybe it's because I want to spend too much money for a product that will eventually kill me. Don't we all do this? Ninety percent of the things we put in our mouths these days probably are deadly anyway or at least there will be some sort of health scare with them at some point. Even those of you who subsist on lettuce have Ecoli to worry about. A nasty little thing that Ecoli. Going after those who are actually trying to be healthy and BAM!! You risk taker!! Don't say I didn't warn you Rabbit.


Okay so I'm in the drive thru and I pull up to the huge menu sign with the talking voice. I hear this clearly spoken "Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order" from what I imagine to be a well built, tall, handsome man. His voice rings so clear I am mesmerized for a moment. Since when could you ever understand the words coming out of one of these things? Naturally I'm a little suspicious of this clarity. We all just wait for the inevitable metallic sounding "Wah-cah tah Madonna, may I tah-yah-ah-ah?" followed by static and we just start talking assuming that the person on the other end can actually tell what it is we are saying. How do they know? Do you need special language classes to be able to interpret this foreign fast food language? Do they have English to Fast Food/Fast Food to English dictionaries? Do I ask too many questions? Do I need medication to stop these inner dialogue's I seem to always have with myself. I discuss this with inner self and decide I'm just fine. We like each others company.


I place my order expecting to hear that sweet handsome voice again which so graciously welcomed me to this restaurant. Instead a woman's voice comes on the line to give me my total. At least that is what I assume she did given that I did not have my handy pocket Fast Food translation dictionary with me. I could have sworn the first voice was a male. An impossibly good looking one at that. Am I losing it? Okay, well, that's a bad question because I probably am, but even I know I didn't imagine this. His voice had come through clearly and hers was the typical mumble of a fast food speaker. Why would they have this feature? Is the initial greeting so overwhelming for the drive through staff that they had to automate it? Seriously? One verbal greeting is what stands between chaos and job satisfaction so they decided to record it to improve the working conditions of McDonald's Drive thru staff?


One of my first jobs required me to carry the "slop" bucket which was as you can imagine a delightful chore. The bucket was a large white thing that was used to discard any food or drinks of the bar patrons. It usually stewed for hours before eventually spilling over. The white color was significant because you could see all the sludge that hadn't quite made it inside which made carrying it as the contents sloshed and spilled all the more rewarding. There is nothing more invigorating than the feeling of wet slop spilling into your shoes as you walk. For minimum wage no less. Then I'd have to hoist this sucker up and into a dumpster which was about 5 feet tall. Can you imagine how great I smelled at the end of a shift? Now that is motivation to get an education people. There was nothing I wanted more in my life as I walked down the long back hallway with slooshy shoes and sticky hands than to be in school so that I never ever had to do this chore again.

So as I waited for my order to be made....who are we really kidding here, it was made 4 hours ago but the heat lamps make me think my burger is fresh.....I wonder to myself how cushy a job at McDonald's might be if you don't even have to greet people and only have to push a little button that says the words for you. I ask you where is the incentive there? Shouldn't everyone have a horrible first job with low pay that makes them want to do better?

Make work project

This weekend I took the kids to the local hardware store to buy some gardening supplies. It was one of these crazy over sized stores that make no sense to the average woman. Who the heck puts flowers on one side of the store and the washrooms way on the other side? Seriously. Are women and children not likely to be in the gardening area. Hello? So here we are looking at the list when I see the familiar dance. I ask " Sweetie, do you need to use the washroom?" I will tell you right now this is the stupidest question you can ask a child. Has there ever in the history of the world been a child who says "Yes" to this question? I don't think so. So I decide that we are going anyway. This is the second stupid thing I do. Why bother asking the child if you are taking them anyway. This is Child Development 101 and I've just broken the cardinal rule. Ugh. Did I mention I work in Child Development? Awesome right?


So we are off pushing the rickety old cart with the one wheel that won't quite roll in a forward direction making the most shrill metal scrapping sound as we boot it across the concrete floor. My daughter who decided to dress up in a lovely summer dress accented by her purple rain boots and a chunky costume jewellery necklace to go to the hardware store is madly trying to keep up with me. All I can think of is someone yelling "Wet clean up in aisle 46" if we don't make it on our personal Marathon of Hope. We make it just in time. Phew. Now comes the long walk back as the kids argue over who gets to push the cart. Smart customers are getting out of the way well in advance. This sort of activity is a good way of determining the general IQ's of people at a large store. Give your child a cart and see who they hit. Anyone who gets hit would not have survived in the wild. I'm just saying. Finally 14 hours later we make it back to our original spot to complete our shopping adventure.

The end of one adventure really is the beginning of another. While the supplies are now in our possession we must do something with them. At home the kids and I busily get started on our little gardening project. I say little because that is what it was going to be. Looking at my flower bed I imagine the previous owner may have had something spectacular here. All that is left from our years of minimal effort and a workman who didn't know that stepping on flowers was probably a jerky thing to do is a few sad looking green things that could actually be weeds. The plan: To dig up a few plants that had seen better days and sow some new seeds to replace them with. Easy right? One thing I forgot to factor was that my children are overly eager helpers with poor attention spans. There is no planning activities of this sort in my house. It's a jump right in and work on the fly kind of thing. So into the flower bed we were. Dirt is flying and holes are being dug. These are holes for the sake of holes my friends. Nothing was going into them this weekend but we have holes!! Of course we had more holes but as one digs a space in the ground dirt must be placed somewhere. In a hole it goes. Luckily they both lose track of what they are doing and nobody seemed to notice that their work was being undone as quickly as they were doing it. We had a solid 2 hours of dirt moving going on. This freed me up for the battle I was going to wage against the Beast. I do not know what sort of plant this ugly bush is which is why I have named it this. Well and the fact that it wasn't a beautiful plant. I have hated this thing since I moved in almost 6 years ago. However I have not been stupid enough to take on this nasty thing until now. I broke my brand new pitch fork trying to remove this sucker but in the end I won the battle. It is out of my flower bed. The kids and I started some seeds in a tray to eventually place in the garden. I am hoping something grows from these seeds. It is hard supervising two children at opposite sides of a seed try as they randomly drop microscopic brown seeds into brown dirt. I'm just hoping that we have enough things grow that we can make our own quirky garden out of it.

All in all we had a fun day together. Nobody peed on the floor, I slayed the beast that was taking over my garden, and we have the best holes on the block.

Death to all socks

I will start off with a confession of sorts. I hate laundry. Folding, sorting, hanging, ironing. This is not a life sustaining activity and yet people are compelled to do it. You may be sitting there thinking, okay Colleen, so do you just walk around in dirty clothes all the time?....No, I do it and hate every minute of it.



Think about it. The washing part starts out okay. I get the stuff into the washer and later move it to the dryer. Not so bad right? There is very little commitment in that kind of chore....but then the frustration begins. First it's one or two socks that seem to have gone missing. Then the next day I'm in the middle of making dinner and figure I'll fold the basket of microscopic mismatched children's socks later. Then one or two items have stains or holes that need repair and BOOM!! It happens. You have your first full basket of work. But life doesn't stop. No it just keeps going at full tilt. One basket becomes two, then three. I swear these things mate. Before you know it you are stepping over and around baskets. Maybe even having to buy more baskets to hold all your stuff. I have been know to go buy more clothes rather than dig through the piles to find a pair of something. You'd think I might figure out that eventually these new clothes will also require laundering. I know this in my head but it seems so much easier at the time.



Have you ever watched an interview with people who just won the lottery? When asked what they are going to do with their millions they inevitably say something like "I'm buying my mom the house she could never afford" or "I'm going to travel". Not me. No sir. I will be placing an ad in the newspaper to acquire a laundry servant. No windows, no toilets, no floors. Just laundry. I will continue to clean my own windows, toilets, and floors so as to ensure that I do not run out of money for a full time laundry professional.



Okay I know what you're thinking. I'm just lazy and I should fold the damn laundry already. You are right. When it comes to laundry I am lazy with a big "L". I have the right to be. I am a single mother of a crazy household who plays soccer, volunteers, works full time, and is actively involved in every aspect of her kids lives. My achilles heal has a spin cycle. So laundry is my dirty little secret. I always have clean clothes but if I show up for work with wrinkles after the clothes sat in the dryer or I have cat hair on my towels because my lovely feline thought the basket of clean clothes would make a great bed just pretend you saw nothing. I don't need your disapproving stares. I'm probably too busy pulling the dryer sheet out of my sleeve to notice you anyway. I smell good. What do you people want from me anyway?

The man in the cape

Okay so here I am not terribly heart broken about breaking up with my boyfriend of several months on New Years Eve. That was just over a week ago but it was hoovering there for almost two months. Normally I'm not one to waffle on such things but the relationship seemed to fluctuate between 60% and 90%. When it was at 60% I thought to myself what a nice guy he was but that I couldn't see it working out. Then when it was at 90% I'd think that maybe it would last. Anyway, I think I was ready for it and he provided the venue and public humiliation to seal the deal.



So I'm over him and thinking that I'll get back out there. Unfortunately....or maybe fortunately I had failed to cancel my subscription to a well know internet dating service. You may know it because they always have tv commercials where the cutest people on earth found each other....as if they needed help in the first place. Now they are incredibly in love skipping down the beach on tv to rub it in. Anyway I met a new guy on said site who showed some promise. One of the things I always ask them to do early on is to tell me 10 random things about themselves. I go first to kind of set the tone for what I'm looking for. I get back all kinds of answers. So Mr. New guy with some potential tells me that he owns two capes as one of his 10 things. One black and one Superman. I ask you, how do I not comment on that? I thought it was very light teasing but apparently Mr NG is quite sensative about his capes. Guess I will be moving on to a new NG. Sigh. Lesson learned. Never tease someone with a Superman cape because they probably don't think any of it is funny. My advice....run away!!



Until next time....

Today is a new day.....sort of.

Okay so today is now officially the 3rd day of the New Year. It's taken me a few days to get this going. As you will probably notice in future postings this is an ongoing theme in my life. Lateness.

I have a good excuse. I had a pretty lousy New Years eve that was highlighted with my then boyfriend smearing food into his beard at a restaurant to make me mad. How does one meet such a quality person you may ask? Internet dating people. Far from my worst date ever though. I won't scare you with that one just yet. Let's just say a new year and a new beginning.

So here I am. It's 2010. I just turned 35 and I started wondering how did I get here? Blogging is way cheaper than therapy so I thought I'd try it.

I will keep this one short and sweet but hope to add more on a regular basis. For now enjoy a lovely picture of me after a few more glasses of wine that I'd ever admit to.

Colleen