what’s WRONG with her?!

i have to tell you a little secret: some people are serial procrastinators. i don’t know if you know anyone like this, but they’re a huge nuisance. they never do things on time, they invent the most hilarious excuses, and they’re just not that great. if you meet one, stay away. if you know one, be thankful you’re different (hopefully). and if you are one.. step up to the microphone beside me. my name is katie, and i’m a serial procrastinator.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why i put off digging through the treasure chest of photos this week and therefore am sitting here, on a thursday might i add, with no wayback wednesday photo to show you. i swear to you though, i will get one, track it down, and give it to you in all it’s glory. it might be on tuesday, but it’ll be done. and i solemnly swear to follow wayback wednesday like a religion from now until i have shared every terrible photo of myself with the blogosphere. i shall not rest.

so today i’m going to share with you a story as equally funny as any photo, really. i’m going to tell you about the day i got stuck in a window. (this one’s always a crowd pleaser.)

in 2003 my parents began construction of their new home. my home is beautiful, ranch style, cozy and comforting, but it has two distinct features i must tell you about: one is it’s windows, which, like most, don’t crank out but rather slide up; and the second is what’s known as a powerbolt. i’ll save you the click: a powerbolt is a deadbolt powered by batteries, which has a numeric pad on it. it is assigned a 4 digit code, which, when punched correctly, gives you easy access to the house. (note: it’s also significantly burglar proof, but even if it wasn’t, the huge german shepherd i own is. don’t come to visit me, as i can’t guarantee the security if your limbs.)

i love having a powerbolt. it means i don’t have to worry about keys, which is great for someone with a purse as sloppy as mine. however, one day when i was 13, i learned how a powerbolt can be a nuisance: ours had run its batteries dry, and no way, no how would that door unlock. both of my parents kept spare keys on their key rings, so we hadn’t placed one outside. i was in a pickle, because it would be two hours until anyone was home to let me in. sure, i could have hung out in the barn, but i probably had computer games to play or something. undeterred, i cased the house.

i was able to find only one window unlocked: the small window that went into my parent’s ensuite bathroom. and then, in my deft little mind, i went to work. i went to the barn and found two sawhorses, which i carted up to the house. i left one in it’s normal position, then placed another, end up, on top of it. i soon discovered that, while close, i still couldn’t quite reach the window. my solution for this was a well placed 5 gallon bucket on top of both sawhorses. i clung to the window as my tower of items shifted beneath me, then used the utility knife i had swiped from the barn to cut a diagonal slice across the screen. i felt so very relieved when the window pushed up at the touch of my fingertips. seeing freedom and entry about five seconds away, i shifted backwards, leaned down, and leaped off of my perch and through the open window.

the force from my leap knocked my sawhorse and bucket contraption to the ground behind me, which ordinarily would have been fine, but i had overestimated the width of the tiny window, and became stuck. my head was facing into the toilet, and, while i could have wriggled free, i would have fallen headfirst into porcelain and ceramic tile. visions of me laying with a broken neck flooded my mind, and i decided to stay put in the window, since jumping 14 feet to the ground on the other side wasn’t appealing to me either.

and so i stayed. i lay my hips against the window frame, which was, originally, the most comfortable position. for the first hour, i managed to entertain myself. i dug through my parents bathroom closet, testing out the softness of some towels on my face, until i became kind of distressed. i started to scream periodically, because, at 13, i didn’t wear a watch and had no concept of time and was convinced my parents probably had a parent teacher meeting or something after work and that i was going to die in that window. i wailed and screamed, but what i didn’t realize was that the lower half of my body had gone numb. because i had been actively using my upper body, and i had raised it to root through the towel closet,  the window frame had cut off circulation to my legs. i then convinced myself i was paralyzed, flopped down against the bathroom wall with the top half of my body, and sobbed. (it was at this point that one of my darling house cats wandered in to see if i was okay. never have i been so jealous of a creature in my life. i have also not kept indoor cats since.)

in another hour, my father pulled into his parking spot in our driveway and caught sight of my legs hanging out of the window. i know he must have desperately wanted to laugh, but he came running and within seconds i was out of my predicament. i had a little trouble using my legs, but damn i was happy to be out of window prison.

in all, i was much less worse for the wear. my hips and stomach turned black with bruising and a prominent window frame could be seen in my skin, but it healed up nicely and not much else happened. i learned that if you’re going to go through a window, make it a picture window or even a patio door, and if you have to reminisce about being on a theme park ride while climbing up a contraption you made to get into said window, it’s probably not a good idea. i also learned that it’s important for dads to rescue first, laugh second, that house cats can be devious little creatures, and that brushing my horse for two hours is far better then staring into a toilet.

next time, you can find me chillin’ in the barn.

wayback.. thursdays?!

i have failed you, blog readers, and for that i am truly sorry in so many ways. you see, i promised you wayback wednesdays. i promised you grainy photos from the early to late 90s of me in all of my toddler to young child glory. and then yesterday, when wayback wednesdays was set to happen.. i got busy. i had horses to ride, groceries to buy, a lemon pie to bake, things to do, yanno? so for that, today i’m going to give you a doozy of a wayback wednesday, thursday edition.

good heavens yes, this is me. there is so much going on in this picture i really don’t even know where to start. i guess then, with the timestamp. this was march 30th, 1997, which would put me at almost 6 years old. goodness, i really don’t even know how to tell you about this picture.

alright. that is a cat, in that stroller. but not just any cat. that was one of our two siamese cats, mork and mindy, who were older than i was and had been around for forever. mork, the more patient of the two, was crosseyed like you wouldn’t believe, and had been hit by a car twice, and probably best described as my very best friend in my younger years. that’s why i managed to convince him to get in my baby stroller, which i buckled him into, and would wheel him everywhere. usually he’d just fall asleep.

now on to me. yes those are blunt bangs. yes those are footy pajamas. which of the two do i still have?! yep, the jammies. i also still have that rocking chair, because i love it more then life itself. i also assume that that’s my easter display there on that coffee table, and i still have that bunny too. i’m happy to report, however, that those lamps are toast.

mork and mindy both lived to be 19 years old. they died the summer before grade 11. i loved the two of them very much, and when mindy died mork was absolutely heartbroken. they had happy lives and everyone knew them, and i still forget that they’ve passed away. i still forget that mork doesn’t sleep on my pillow every single night anymore, that mindy isn’t locked in the bathroom like she always was, and that i won’t find them curled up in their rocking chair anymore. i guess after 17 years, some memories are harder to shake then others.

mork and mindy have been replaced by scooter and her massive black son, baxter, but they’re still pretty special animals. especially mork, the poor old fellow who allowed me to dress him in baby clothes, carry him everywhere, and put him in a stroller.

meanwhile, back on the ranch

well, i’m home.

or where is home these days?

basically, i’m in the province that has loved me for almost 19 years now. and i love her too. she is full of trees, lakes, surrounded by oceans, with an abundance of rock outcroppings, waterfalls, wildlife and culture. nova scotia, thank you for having me back.

i came home on saturday, after a particularly long day which started at 5am EST and ended late into the night of a completely different time zone. a taxi, a bus, montreal metro transit (which was terrifying) and a plane ride later, i was finally home. and life was good. seeing cody was incredibly exciting, since as soon as he heard my voice he turned and came trotting across his pasture. i’m going to have to take a video of cody trotting, because it’s something to see. when his hooves touch the ground, it’s like he lands on dream whip and immediately springs back up. he has incredible movement. just another reason to love him.

i haven’t actually stayed home yet, so i’ve been crashing at aaron’s. the good news is that he no longer snores (i think). the bad news is that i might be far too tired to hear it if he is. i was so tired saturday night that i rolled over and smashed my face into the wall and kept on sleepin’.

so basically, i’ve been spending my days with jake, on the road between home and here, to ride my horse and do lunch with my friends. today, however, the wind is gusting like you wouldn’t even believe, so i’m spending the day relaxing! perhaps i’ll make homemade bagels..

my goodness, it’s good to be home.

wayback wednesdays

i figured i needed a “feature” or something, ya know? so i thought about it quite a bit, and considered maybe doing a fun list every friday, but i realized i don’t really have that many ideas for fun lists. i thought about posting a really funny video every tuesday, but everyone always knows about those videos before me. i thought about posting a link to some charity i believed in every thursday afternoon, but i realized i don’t have nearly enough readers for that. so i finally came up with…

wayback wednesdays! i would like to organize my mom’s photo trunk for her this summer (not scrapbook.. i have about as much creativity as a package of heinz 57 ketchup.) so i figured, if i’m going to be digging up all those lovely old memories, maybe i should share some with the world! and hence, wayback wednesdays were born. i invite other bloggers to join me :)

now, since i’m still at school and therefore do not have access to that wonderful photo trunk, you’re stuck with the only really “old” (pre-2000) picture i could dig up on my facebook or hard drive. and for that reason, you’re stuck with cody.

meet “breeze”, as he was known then. he was born on may 9th, 1990, the product of a beautiful white mare named holly and a dark grey stallion named clyde. cody? cody turned out chestnut. with a big white blaze. he’s always been a bit of an odd character.

a few years ago, i took cody to the biggest horse show in the area. because the horse industry is so tight knit, word got out that cody had been sold to me and that he would be at the show. i had stepped out for a lunch and when i went back to his stall, an envelope had been pinned to his door. when i opened it, i found these pictures. his original breeders and heard that i had him, come to see him, and found all his baby pictures which they graciously gave to me. i met up with them later that day and we talked for hours about what cody’s parents and early life was like. i am so appreciative of getting to see that little fellow as a baby, and you can’t deny that he’s pretty darn cute as a baby!

cody, you were a pretty darn cute baby, but i’m happy you grew up and turned into a just as fantastic horse. :)

welcome to wayback wednesdays!

why i have a massive problem with twilight

hello, twilight fans. welcome to a post you are going to hate with all of your heart. or do vampires have hearts?

alrighty then, ring the bell, fling open the doors of the gates, and let’s get this thoroughbred running, shall we?

i’m not sure if you realize this but twilight is one of the most incredibly massive phenomena to have taken the earth by storm.. to date! yes people, twilight is one of the biggest franchises in the world. i typically check google trends when deciding what to assault your eyes with on this blog (today, by the way, i chose not to talk about bret michaels in the hospital. it is a subject that is too open ended, and i thought my opinions might get me hated. what i thought i was going to accomplish from a post bashing twilight, i’ll never know.) any given day, twilight is trending on google. always. twilight is always trending. the double accentuation was incredibly necessary in that instance.

believe it or not i have read the first twilight book and seen the first twilight movie, because i assumed it was a stupid franchise and that maybe i would be mildly surprised. let me tell you, i was about as surprised as getting socks for christmas (mama and daddy, i still love you very very much, and i really do need new socks. i’ve stopped doing laundry. i’m a real college kid now guys. i’ve been wearing flip flops that i stole from my best friend since new years. it only stopped snowing last week. look at what you’ve raised. i still love you.) twilight is a book that is written with very little real creativity. sure, there’s vampires, that’s creative. except if you haven’t noticed, that’s where the creativity ends. my darling little cody has more creativity escaping his stall to pursue his favorite pastime (turning on taps and flooding things) then twilight has from the first page, and yes i am talking the blank insert page before the book begins.

the movie was even worse. it was shot for the most part in monochrome. i am a colorful person. right now, i am wearing lime green sweats and a vibrant magenta sweater. i do not want to watch a movie in monochrome. if i did, i’d rewatch the appaloosa. marlon, honey, i’m 18 and you make my heart sing. i felt it (twilight) was best described as dry. boring. unclimatic. (made that one up.) and lastly: unimpressive.

but see, my problem with twilight is that it has a following which worships the very ground it exists on. people will do anything for a character from twilight. they are consumed, immersed, to say the least obsessed with twilight. i’m not saying everyone is, but so many of the enthusiasts of this series borderline on outright ridiculous. they feel that they may be able to achieve a life that is so much like bella, or that they will find their own edward, etc, etc, etc. i’m sorry, but if you’re going to have such unrealistic outcomes about your life, i’m going to have to shut you down. the sooner you understand that no, in fact, there are no vampires in vancouver, smiling, even though kristen stewart isn’t aware of how to do it, isn’t a bad thing, and finally that PEOPLE CAN NOT LIVE FOREVER, the better off you’ll be.

i recently took a class in the sociology department called media & society. i hated it from the first moment the teacher started lecturing. but i stuck with it, because, to be honest, i didn’t want to go through the trouble of course changing. it turns out i learned a lot. what i learned was best applied to docudramas and newsprint, and as a person who enjoys nothing better then a bathtub, a cold beer (always keepin’ it classy) and a great novel, i didn’t think it applied to the aspects of my life that i was most interested in. boy was i ever wrong.

media scholar marshall mcluhan spoke about two types of media. he spoke of “cool” media, such as the telephone, which requires the input of more then one person to become a true piece of working media. he also spoke of “hot” media, such as a novel or a film, which requires the reader or viewer to allow themselves to be swept in the magic of the tale in order to appreciate it’s value as media. twilight is a piece of media consumed in a raging forest fire. i have to ask though, how long before another type of media that mcluhan never predicted emerges: obsessive media. it’s already begun – harry potter is the first instance i can remember, followed by twilight, and who knows what is to come in the future?

darling readers, commenters, lurkers and potential stalkers. i am off to read your latest blog posts, and leave heartfelt, wonderful comments which i hope will delight you as you wake and go about your days.

and if you’re still hellbent interested in vampires, might i suggest anne rice’s interview with the vampire?

by the way: i’m thinking of hosting a giveaway. what are your thoughts on this, and what would you like to see up for grabs?

my life as a traveling wilbury

wilbury. you know, i just googled that to make sure i didn’t embarrass myself in front of the whole blogosphere, and i realized i had embarrassed myself in front of everyone i’ve ever said the word to, because i’ve always said wilderberry. what the hell is  wilderberry? hang on, let me ask the almighty gods of google.

turns out its a form of schnapps. that’s very typical of me to associate an alcohol i’ve never heard of with another aspect of my life.

ANY-WHO-HEE. by the way, my server was flaking out harder then an early morning parisian croissant earlier today, sorry about that to anyone out there in the interweb who was trying to get on here. but, so you know, you didn’t miss much. but i guess now you want me to discuss something of relevance, eh? (yes that makes me canadian.) (is anything on this site of relevance?)

in a little over a week i’ll be off on yet another beautiful plane ride. planes are my preferred mode of transportation – when i’m not riding my vacuum cleaner of course. (and yet another side note, did you know dyson is making a RIDE ON vacuum cleaner? like your frickin’ lawn mower. first item on christmas list 2010.) but yes, i enjoy riding on planes. i do not, however, enjoy riding in trains. i associate this because last spring i went on a lovely tour of europe. i had the pleasure of riding the eurostar from london to paris. don’t get me wrong – the eurostar is lovely. hear that, europeans? you did a fantastic job. and i slept the whole time, from point A to point B. you might be asking yourself where the problem is here. well, i suggest you go out and catch mononucleosis, commonly known as the mono virus. it makes you exhausted. it makes you do nothing but sleep. it makes you grab your holy beads from the vatican, see a vision, tell everyone you’re going to die and then run face first into a wall (actually, that happened after i got home, when i got a migraine and took the wrong meds.)

riding a train with mono is not fun. why? because mono makes you fairly comatose. except you do not, do NOT get a good sleep. you might not move for 8 hours but it’s very restless. when i was sick with it (and i got it bad [name that usher song!] and ended up in the hospital for a while) i would often wake up more exhausted then i had gone to sleep. and now, i associate trains with me having mono. it’s a me thing.

planes? planes are a whole new ball game. during my all nighter last night to study for my final today, i got sidetracked and tried to figure out just how many times i’ve flown this year. current number is checking in at 14. 14 flights in 12 months. it would be a lot more if i was, say, the ceo of captain highliner, but i’m not. i’m a student. and a broke student at that. but home requires jet fuel, and my vacuum cleaner runs on diesel. so i trot off to the nearest airport and order me up one roundtrip ticket to adventure! (not really. it’s more like a one way ticket to boring.)

this is the thing: airports, airplanes, air horns (not) are like therapy. no matter what kind of stress there is in my life, i can get on a plane and it goes away. why? because i instantly fall asleep. i fall asleep at the gate. i fall asleep at the baggage counter (kidding). but let me tell you, i am dead to the world before they even get the safety demonstration underway. i would really hate to be someone looking for an interesting seatmate and get stuck with me. i’m a total snooze.

the thing is, see, i’ve travelled so much in the last 12 months (plus about a dozen flights earlier then that.. i figure my grand total is around 30) in and out of 14 airports, that sometimes i fall asleep. and then the most shocking thing happens (i think this is a phenomenon. it’s happened more then once): i wake up, and i forget which airport i’m at! i can’t even remember where i’m going! somedays i’m off to toronto, sometimes i’m running over to halifax, at times i must depart for montreal, and then, to really throw a monkey wrench in my life, sometimes i end up in ottawa! i get very panicked, and i have to go rooting through my tickle trunk (aka my purse) and find my boarding pass, but, since i am a purse-hoarder, half the time i’ve got 4 or 5 in there! and then i have to find my cell phone, so i can figure out the date, so i can figure out which boarding pass applies and where exactly i am heading! you would think i would just check the gate details, but i never have done things the easy way.

i never dream on a plane. i have slept 9 hours on a plane (rome to toronto is not a family friendly flight. wait til your children are older, please) as well as countless times toronto-halifax, montreal-halifax, etcetera, and never have i dreamt. i just get a very blissful, very restful sleep.

courtesy of air canada. thanks guys, i know you’ve got my back.

the ten things in my life that make me deliriously happy

i’m going to write about ten things in my life that make me so, so incredibly happy. things that make me smile for no apparent reason, that i absolutely love having in my life.

rainy sunday mornings

there is nothing in the world i like more then waking up on a sunday, when i have absolutely no commitments, and hearing the rain. i always leave my windows open and i love everything about it, from the sound to the smell to the color of the sky. it makes me want to stay in bed all day long and do nothing but relax. go ahead and sing that keith urban song. you know you obviously want to.

my duvet

i seriously could not live without a duvet. i didn’t realize what all the fuss was about until i got one, and now i don’t think i could exist without it. it’s one of my favorite things in my room for sure, and since i leave all my ‘big stuff’ (bedding, towels, etc.) at school, my mom bought me another one to have at home. i really had no idea baby ducks could be this wonderful.

watching the horses wake up

in the summer, it gets too hot and there are too many flies to leave my horses outside all day. since they are definitely animals that prefer to be outdoors, they get turned out again at around 8pm, and are allowed to stay out all night. there is nothing better then getting up around sunrise, toasting a bagel and having a glass of orange juice outside on the patio and watching those two silly things wake up for the day.

the beach

the beachi hate the heat but goodness gracious i love the beach. i could waste away an entire day on the beach, alternating between sleeping and reading. warm sand, saltwater smell, nice breeze, and waves. hundreds upon thousands of crashing, smashing, rolling waves. i really don’t think there is anything about that situation that anyone could possibly dislike, which is why it’s made the list of top then things that make me deliriously happy.

thunder & lightning storms

oh there is nothing in the world that makes me happier then thunder & lightning. especially when it’s been a beautiful morning, and the sky turns grey, and the thunder is in the distance for a while. eventually the rain comes, and then huge bolts of lightning, like great shards of glass in the sky. it makes the air feel electrified and all the creatures on our farm get spooky and excited. it’s probably my favorite thing, the combination of rain, thunder, and lightning.

random acts of kindess

it doesn’t even matter if they’re towards or from me. just seeing a random stranger help out someone who they obviously don’t know makes me happy. it says a lot about a person when they’re willing to give a moment of their time to someone who may need a helping hand. and that makes me happy. :-)

circa millennium music

you name it, and i am so down to party to it. from jagged edge’s ‘where the party at’ to nelly’s ‘hot in herre’ to janet jackson’s ’someone to call my lover’, i can’t get enough of this music. it reminds me of those years and definitely makes me deliriously happy. in fact, i like to turn it up as loud as the speakers will go, and rock out. anyone up for some “summertime girls are the kind i like, steal your honey like i stole your bike”? ..anyone?

long quiet rides

from the back of one of my beautiful horsesone of my favorite things to do is get on my horse bareback with no bridle, and let him wander aimlessly around his pasture. there is nothing more relaxing then green grass, blue sky, and my pretty little horse. i have been known to do this for hours at a time, with him just grazing, and me just sitting up on him taking in the view. usually i lay across his back and let him wander.

driving a long distance on a quiet road

i love it when there’s hardly anyone else on the road. especially a road i know well, so i don’t have to put much thought into my driving. it has to be during the day though, because i get pretty nervous driving at night (i know. there might be someone hiding behind the driver’s seat. i’ve seen all the movies.) i turn on my music and before i know it i’m at where ever it is that i’m going.

taking the dog to the beach

my boy at the beachi love to take my dog to the beach. i get such a kick out of seeing him be so happy after a hot day in the sun, barking at ducks, watching the horses on the beach from a distance, and throwing sticks for him. i think it helps that i love my dog so much, because what makes me happy is seeing him so happy. i could sit on the beach for hours with him, throwing a stick for him to fetch, just because i can see how happy it makes him.

these are the ten things that, without fail, make me deliriously happy. no matter what my day has been like, just one of these things can change the whole outlook. enjoy. :-)

what it’s like to sleep with aaron

get your head out of the gutter. not like that, fools.

i’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and unlike 99% of the student population of the world, i’m still at school. at 4am last night i got to thinking about why i can’t sleep. i don’t think it’s because aaron isn’t here, because, quite frankly, if any of you had ever slept with aaron, you’d know why. let me run down a typical weeknight in bed with aaron.

10:00pm get in bed. watch tv.

10:27pm i get bored of tv. i turn on a lamp, read a book or magazine, or grab my laptop.

10:30pm aaron starts with the “i’m tired. i’m going to sleep.” fair enough, buddy, but i’m not. deal with it.

10:31pm aaron starts to snore. nothing, on god’s green earth, bothers me more then sleeping with someone who snores. except for maybe the green alarm clock that is a minion of satan, but we haven’t got there yet.

10:33pm i feel guilty for having the lamp on. i turn it off and turn the tv on very quietly. i figure it may distract me from the noise beside me. i am just not tired.

10:37pm aaron wakes up. glances at the tv. i am typically watching dirty jobs. he gets very interested and watches it with me.

10:54pm aaron goes “oh, yes, i’ve seen this one.” do you not think you would have realized that 17 minutes ago? does mike rowe doing various amounts of ridiculous not strike a chord in your head? ok sugar, you go back to bed. but for my sake, plug your nose. and your throat.

10:58pm aaron is snoring. i’m contemplating suicide.

11:00pm i turn off the television. i try to sleep, trying various techniques such as co-ordinating my breathing with his snores, trying to dream about sirens, cows mooing, and air horns at hockey games. none prove to work.

11:17pm i start to look around the room for a plastic bag which i can use to smother him.

11:32pm upon finding no plastic bag, i start to contemplate doing it with a pillow. i feel i have enough of a grasp on the technique to make it work.

12:14am i soon decide that smothering him is probably not in my best interest. i don’t have what it takes to survive in jail. i’m going to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

12:15am trip over the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs which we use to keep jake, the puppy that runs on sixteen dozen energizer batteries, from coming upstairs and destroying everything. (side note: he’s learning to jump over it. i hope this means it will be taken away soon. very detrimental to my health.)

12:16am break all the bones in my body after tripping on gate.

12:19am stand in kitchen, drinking water. try to decide if i can fake being asleep, dump a glass of water on aaron, and hide the glass in time to make him think there’s a ceiling leak. if there was a ceiling leak, he would not be sleeping. he would be angry. angry and his feathers would be ruffled and he would be up all night. and if he’s up, he’s not snoring.

12:22am go back to bed. set the glass of water on the beside table.

12:40am finally, finally sleep. but i know what’s coming in the morning..

6:00am green alarm clock from hell rears it’s ugly head. i need to describe this alarm clock to you. first of all, every time a cell phone signal passes through the house, this thing makes a static noise. which, you know, i can handle. but when the alarm goes off, it scares the bejesus out of me. i am fully prepared to die young, because every time green alarm clock from hell goes off, it shortens my life by about ten years. this is how it typically goes in the morning: green alarm clock from hell goes off. i jump out of my skin. in my panicked morning haze i begin to slap at it, frantically trying to make that noise go away. i usually end up knocking the lamp into the garbage, and dumping the glass of water from the night before on both of our cell phones. (side note: if you want recommendations on water resistant cell phones, i would be happy to help you out.) it is in this panic that aaron, who sleeps on the inside, usually reaches over and slaps the alarm clock, turning it off. i usually wind up with a face full of armpit. but at least that beckoning noise from satan is off.

6:06am IT’S GOING OFF AGAIN!! SOMETHING IS WRONG!! oh, wait, yes, aaron doesn’t get up until 6:30. but he loves to hit snooze from 6 until 6:30. i get another 24 minutes of green alarm clock lovin’.

6:30am aaron gets up to go take a shower. finally, finally, bliss of sleep.

6:43am aaron comes back in. he is usually very quiet, which i am so appreciative for. most times i sleep through this part.

puppy jake!6:50am aaron goes downstairs, where, i believe, he thinks he is in another house. he is no longer quiet. this is the part where i usually wake up. depending on the intensity of the agony he put me through the night before with his snoring, sometimes i will help him make his lunch. and then, of course, jake, that crazy puppy, comes inside, and the three of us play a game, which is usually not a game because jake is protective of his toys, and the day has begun. jake and aaron eat their breakfasts, and then i ship the two boys out: aaron to work, jake to his day of sunshine outside.

7:30am turn on cnn. start a load of laundry. start defrosting chicken. wash dishes. the day has begun. at least i am grateful for the 13 minutes of sleep i got while aaron was in the shower.

this boy is shortening my life. but really, i wouldn’t have it any other way.

my pot, my kettle, and my casserole dish are black. are yours?

i have a major problem with someone in my life. really, i do. the problem is, see, when i’m in the same room as this person, i can’t quite keep the snarky comments at bay. really, not to brag here, but i have been known as possessing some pretty sharp wit. and i can assure you, when this person and i happen to by chance meet up, hell quietly rumbles.

this is kind of a problem. most people think it’s just a “hurdle” like something i can just leap over and the next day we’ll all trot away and forget anything had happened. well it’s not a hurdle. it’s the berlin wall. see, i take personal attacks pretty hard. not like ‘oh she’s this..’ or ‘oh she’s that..’ i’m talking when my personal integrity is viciously attacked. it’s like beating a dog for stealing scraps from the garbage: completely unnecessary and cruel.

yet this is a problem, because i was personally attacked. by someone who happens to be a very close blood relative of someone i happen to be very close to. are you following me? no? okay, my boyfriend’s brother decided to rip me a new one. mind you at the time i didn’t care, i just assumed he was a giant asshole. oh, RIGHT, all evidence points to the fact that he is. so this is a problem, because now i detest my boyfriend’s brother and can’t be in the same room as him.

so, what does one do when you have to skip family functions because you’ve outlawed the in-laws? that was a question i faced for a little while. but, now i think it’s time to put on my big girl panties. what does this mean? it means i’m going to bring the snark. i’m going to be the most pleasant bitch you’ll ever come across, and make wonderful things as unpleasant as possible between he and i. the rest of the family? love them to death. him? the feelings are not so warm.

darling, would you like to be the pot, or the kettle?

have you seen my wise man?

i am going to retell a story which i, for some reason, think is absolutely hilarious. you may not agree with me. feel free to cease and desist reading this post at any time.

most of my friends & i are away at university. because we’re not the type to just split off and run in separate directions, holiday plans are often made. this year, the holiday plan was a formal christmas party at a the house of my darling friend andrea. because it was formal, i of course broke out the bottle of fat bastard cabernet sauvignon, which i had been saving for such an occasion. (massive lie. i had been given it three days earlier and couldn’t wait to break it open.) it didn’t take me long to work my way to the bottom of that bottle to say the least.

now, let’s do a little “aside” here. like in a play. a scene within a scene. here’s a little info about me drinking. if i drink some beer, i’m fun. i have a great time and in general have control over the situation. if i drink hard liquor, i get sloppy. sloppy and amusing. but if i drink a bottle of wine, i get downright silly. i get silly and funny and i do what i wanna do. and it is quite a feat to watch.

after i successfully killed the bottle of fat bastard, my dear friend and comrade emma agreed to drive me and carly home. this is where the story starts to get interesting. after 20km of me being out the sunroof, singing cher at the top of my lungs, we somehow managed to arrive in town. me, bottle of wine in hand, spotted the town nativity scene. it was so beautiful, four foot high characters positioned in the center of town, illuminated by the glow of three floodlights, awaiting baby jesus. (oh, right, for the sake of this story.. this was christmas eve, i believe? or late at night on the eve of christmas eve, making it actual christmas eve.) the whole scene touched my heart so beautifully that i had to share the joy with other parts of town.

before i knew it emma had pulled the car over and i was making a mad dash across the town green to steal the virgin mary. driven into the ground on stakes, the town didn’t exactly offer her the greatest sense of security. i bolted back to the car with my 4 foot high symbol of christmas hope, laughing my head off, and we burnt rubber away from the scene of the crime. we drove all the way across town, setting her up on a guard rail.

there's a wiseman in the car!then i figured, in my fat bastard inebriated mind, that she might get lonely. she needed another character. ten minutes later we were back at town center, and emma and i were both running to pull another character out. this time, i managed to sneak away with a wise man.

i felt holy at this time, though don’t ask me why, because i had just stolen half of baby jesus’ welcoming committee. i probably should have felt less holy than i’ve ever felt in my entire life, but then again i never have been what most would consider “normal”.

we had brought both characters to the industrial side of town, where half the population of the area must drive to work everyday, and set them up in a place where they couldn’t be missed. in my deranged mind, i felt that i was spreading christmas cheer. in the town’s mind.. well really, i don’t want to hear about what they think. i know we did manage to make the small town newspaper, as “late night robbers relocate granville nativity scene” and there has been no prouder moment in my life. (apparently small-town news was slack on christmas week.)

the virgin on the guardrailbut arguably my greatest pride comes in the form of a photo i found a while back on facebook of two men on their way to work who happened to stop and get their pictures taken with my symbols of christmas joy. i’m happy i was able to spread christmas cheer to everyone, even though in the process, i did accidently break the wiseman.

forgive me father, for i have sinned..