Fresh start.

I was really hating my old blog. This template is a little more interesting. Maybe it will inspire me to actually write.

Our new mattress arrived today. Did you know that for the delivery people to take your old mattress away, it MUST be bagged? What, do they think my 15-year-old mattress is somewhat unhygienic? At any rate, they were supposed to bring me bags so that I could package up the mattress and boxspring (yeah, me, by myself, that was going to be fun), but they didn’t have any.

“The store is supposed to give you the bags,” says the dude.

“Well, my bill here says that you’re supposed to bring them,” I reply.

“Nah, we don’t have ‘em.”

Okay, so they have to come back another day with bags to haul off the dustmite-infested mattress, no biggie. I am going to sleep like a queen tonight in my new, oh-so-comfy bed.

Although there is something a bit sad about giving up the first mattress that my husband and I bought together.  We gave it a good send-off last night.

Ok, just so you know, that is not me. I “borrowed” the photo from the internet. I haven’t worn lingerie like that in almost seven years.

(Why yes, my son is 6-and-a-half, how did you know?)

Why is it, I wonder…

…that people don’t clue in that they NEED TO MOVE UP when in a drive-thru lane. Don’t leave 12 feet between you and the car ahead. Can you not see that there are 9 cars behind you and space is pretty limited in these rinky-dink parking lots? Oh yeah, and to the last car in the line: don’t block the only way in and out of the lot. Really. Have some common sense.

I also wonder why it is my hubby cannot, for the life of him, load the dishwasher properly. No, washing plastic cups on the bottom rack so they turn out deformed is not cool.  Yes, glasses on the bottom rack will break. Stacking the bowls practically on top of one another will leave a hardened mass of last night’s mac & cheese, which will likely never come off.

And don’t get me started on laundry.

Creative Minds for Charity Challenge

As you may or may not know, Etsy (”your place to buy & sell all things handmade”) is very community oriented. As such, members of the site often join together to form “street teams”. These teams are to help unite those with common interests or goals and provide a place for support and knowledge. The street team I joined up with last year is etsyBEAD. It’s been a great learning experience, as many of the members are veteran jewellery designers with lots of good advice on business and techniques. They also provide fantastic encouragement!

So, to make a long story short, our team joined up with another team, the Creative Glass Guild of Etsy (CGGE) for a creative collaboration challenge. CGGE members created cabs, beads, and pendants for my team to turn into finished jewelry. We then donated the pieces to another street team, HOST (Helping Others Street Team) in order to raise money for fellow Etsyians in need. Photos of the finished products are posted on the Creative Minds for Charity Flickr Group.

If you’d like to purchase one of these items (and I have to say, the pieces are all very beautiful), please visit the HOST store on Etsy.

What the Duck?

1:40 AM. Peaceful slumber.

1:41 AM. “Honk. Honk. Honk, honk, HONK!”

1:42 AM. “HONK, honk, honk. Honk. Honk.”

1:43 AM. “Honk. Honk. Honk, HONK, honk!”

1:44 AM. Me groggily raising my head from my pillow and looking around confusedly. Did I set my alarm to goose instead of music? Is someone’s car alarm on the fritz? Are we being bombed and this is Canada’s newest air raid siren?

No. It’s a stupid goose honking in someone’s backyard. Why? Why would it do that? I look out my window, expecting to see lights blazing from neighbouring homes, but no. It’s completely dark everywhere. Grumbling, I get up and decide to let my dog out, hoping that will scare it away. And what does my good dog do? Why, nothing. She’s not about to bark and wake everyone up. So she just wanders around outside for a few minutes, has a pee, and comes back in. I head back to bed and thankfully all is quiet again. Maybe the goose did sense my dog and hightailed it out of there.

2:56 AM. “HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!”

Little goose has found its friends and all 30 of them are doing a fly-by over my house. Awesome.

Pets.

We have two Siamese cats (Jasper, a big, grumpy, but very needy chocolate point, and Zoey, the blue point runt of the litter, who plays like a kitten even though she’s 11) and a one year old Husky-Collie-maybe-Shepherd-cross dog named Shylo. Growing up, I also had two cats and a dog, which is either a coincidence or maybe that’s the case with everyone who has pets. Anyway, as I was stumbling over the dog for the billionth time while making dinner, some thoughts about pets were rolling around in my head, like:

• if they could talk, what would their voice sound like?
• if there was a fire in my house, which pet would I save first?
• what do they really think about?
• can they communicate with each other, and if so, what do they talk about?

Imagine a secret camera capturing their activities while we’re out.

Shylo: “Woo hoo, they’re gone! Time to partay!”

Zoey: “Yay, let’s unroll the toilet paper!”

Jasper: “Fuck off, dog, I swear, if you come near me, I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out.”

(Did I mention that the Jasp and Shy-Shy don’t get along so well?)

Shylo: “I’m going to find me some socks to chew.”

Zoey: “I’m going to sit on the placemats.”

Jasper: “Get the fuck away from me, dog.”

Of course, all this partying sure can tucker you out.

Why I love working from home.

1. I don’t commute;

2. I’m in a calm, idiot-free zone;

3. I can watch “Bold & the Beautiful” at lunch (oh shoot, did I say that aloud?);

4. I have a whole fridge to myself;

5. No microwave line-up;

6. No fluorescent lighting;

7. My windows can open;

8. No one drops by my desk and gabs incessantly for 20 minutes;

9. I don’t need headphones to listen to music; and

10. I HAVE MY OWN BATHROOM (sorry, was that TMI?)

Team Christ Almighty Already

Before reading, please note that I do not mean any disrespect whatsoever to anyone regarding their religious beliefs. This post is only a comment on the latest episode of Big Brother.

I have a PVR so I usually watch shows a day late.

Anyway, I watched Sunday’s episode tonight where the alliance, otherwise known as “Team Christ”, discussed how God was watching over their team. Really? Is he? He’s not looking after starving kids in Africa or trying to stop wars or torture or global warming or devastating hurricanes? Do you, Natalie, really believe God would rather make sure you win $500,000? You think that’s where his focus is?

I’m sorry, I’m not a church-goer, but I do believe in God and it really bothers me when people on reality TV pray to God to help them win a freakin’ game.

Now if you’re going to donate your winnings charity, that I could maybe understand. But, funny, no one’s mentioned that. No, wait, I think Chelsia did, but they voted her out. Ironic.

6 going on 16

Yeah, so why did I think I could write 30 posts in 30 days? It’s friggin’ HARD! I mean, it’d be a lot easier if I had fun and interesting things to report, but I really don’t. Unless you want to talk about belligerent 6 year olds.

I’m not sure I understand when kids were suddenly able to talk back to their parents. I’m pretty sure I didn’t start doing it until I was at least 12, but now there seems to be no age limit. Okay, I’m fortunate in that I haven’t heard “I hate you” … yet … but the door slamming and screaming reminds me of my teenage years. Where do they learn that? Sure, I’ve had arguments with my husband, but certainly nothing that extreme. Does he get from Hannah Montana? Zack & Cody? Mario & Luigi? I don’t think so.

Maybe he’s taking a reverse path; being the obnoxious teenager now and in ten years he’s going to be a sweet little boy. Yeah, fingers crossed!

Nothin’ like a little spring cleaning.

Today I decided to clean out my car. It was so completely disgusting from winter that I couldn’t stand it anymore. There were old gas receipts, dog hairs all over the seats, last year’s summer soccer schedule, one of the those drinkable yogurts (mostly empty) in that little compartment in the back door (thanks, son, way to use a garbage), and of course, all the crap that comes off your boots during the winter. So I grabbed my dustbuster and some handy Armor-All wipes and went to work.

The dustbuster’s battery went before I finished half the back seat.

No worries, I got out the real vacuum, which my ever-so-thoughtful honey bought me for Christmas. (Don’t worry, that wasn’t my real gift. Vacuums are not presents, as we ladies know. Thankfully, my husband is also aware of that fact.)

On a side note, when my son saw that massive box wrapped up under the tree, he was so excited. Once it was opened, though, he promptly burst into tears and ran into his room. So don’t buy your kids a vacuum for Christmas, either.

Anyway, I finished up the vacuuming and the wiping (because I don’t do the whole bucket of water and soap and windex and paper towels and all that jazz; wipes are good enough); gassed it up (at the gas station, not the other kind of gassing) and got a car wash, and didn’t my car look almost brand new.

Now no one is allowed in it.

O…M…G…

How’s that for stupid letters?

That’s what I said last night as I was drifting off to sleep last night and realized that I hadn’t blogged. You’d think I could make it a little longer than two days before slipping. So now what? Do I fail? Do I have to wait until May and try again? Can I write two posts today to make up for it?

Argh.