Heya,

Stag n doe Saturday night was FUN.



This picture is, from the left, my sister Jen, me, my sister Siobbhan, and Sandy. It was a blast dressing up like Madanna and feeling like I was back in high school with the music and all the big hair. The only thing was that I wore these high heeled red boots (with black lace tied around them of course) and they KILLED my feet so that I couldn't dance that much. What a shame. On a less glamorous note, I think I need to get my bunions done. They just ache for hours when I have been on my dogs for any length of time.

Today I must clean. The little things that maintain the semi neatness around here just get ignored on the weekend and now it's blech. But its a good day for it. Kinda gloomy out.

Jay and I watched Master and Commander yesterday. Very good. R Crowe of course is intense and his accent was bang on, but the supporting characters were solid too. It was a great movie to watch on the big screen tv. Big epic-scene-huge ocean panoramic wave with the crashing boats and cannons in 5.1 DTS sound always are.

Other than that our new mortgage should go through tomorrow, barring any last minute idears of my uncle donny's to squeeze a little more cash out of us. This has taken way too long. I am tired of leaving voice mails and finding papers and all. Just take out the money at the end of the month and leave me out of it.

Alright well, I hear the kitchen stool being dragged across the floor so that can only mean that Monty is implementing his get-the-blue-whale-gummies-plot for the third time this morning. Its like living with a racoon all the time. You know, how you have to hang your food from a tree when you go camping or lock it in the car or whatever.

I should talk though. Its barely nine am and I have had about five blue whales myself!

Ciao.

Ten things about Van Helsing the movie.

1. Hugh Jackman does action very well! Kind of campy and tough. Delivers his smirky one liners nicely, and yet he has a little bit of sensitivity beneath his huge jacket and hat and weaponry.

2. Computer generated special effects ad nauseum. Dr Jekyl reminded me of the Hulk. But of course these were well done so it wasn't like Jaws or anything where you are going, 'That looks SO fake!' With fantasy movies, there is the whole suspension of disbelief thing going, and you just go with the flow. And the vampires' teeth did look real.

3. Kate Beckinsale (sp?) has redeemed herself somewhat from the toothy lovesick dork she played in Pearl Harbour. She has this funky Transylvanian/Romanian/Irish/Australian accent going on, but somehow it works.

4. The Shrek m & m's are really big and taste suspiciously like smarties.

5. Don't go see Van Helsing and then come home and talk about it if you have an 8 year old who is not allowed to see it in your house who will drive you insane asking you questions about it and saying, "But WHY MOMMY? WHY can't I go sEE it?"

6. This movie will be great to rent near Halloween. The mood is dark and gloomy and perfect for a rainy night if you want to snuggle in. And the storyline just might keep you awake if you have a tendency to nod off as I do.

7. It is hard to review a movie almost a week from the day you saw it. Note to self:do reviews immediately after viewing.

8. While it won't be nominated for any oscars, this is a fun rental. As for theatrical experience, it's maybe not worth the 14 bucks at Silver City Ancaster, but absolutely worth the matinee price at Jackson Square on a Saturday afternoon when you are hanging out with your mate without the kids.

9. The lead vampire guy was really cool looking. And he played the part of the five hundred year old v with a shrug and a lift of the eyebrow like nobody's business.

10. I have to go make some orange juice for a certain little beast who is clawing at my neck right now. His name starts with M. He is relentless.

Byeall

Bad week for blogging! No real reason cept the usual nonsense that keeps me away from a sitting position at any given time. And I find that the more stuff I'm doing, the less I write, a la Bronte sisters I guess. They did hardly anything and wrote oodles. If they had had some things going on, like, maybe marriages or babies or outside jobs, we would have no movies to watch on A&E.

Big stag n doe this week. It kind of snuck up on me and now I am rushing a bit to get the eighties look thing going. I found a dress that kind of rocks the house. Black and white polka dots, huge bow, peplum, rhinestone, one strap. It's choice. You can almost hear the Falcon Crest theme song when you look at it. (sorry Austin, you won't get that, little fella) Alls I need now is a pair of black pumps with white ankle socks and a pair of black gloves with the fingers cut off.

As for the roller skates, I think i may wear them just for my hour of jello shooter duty. Which means I better lay off the jello shooters personally eh? What's black and white and red and has wheels? Me on the dance floor after a big bloody accident Saturday night.
Should be a fun night though for sure. there will be tons of people there that I havent seen for ages. And my ma and pa are going and they can tear up the dance floor big time. I am just hoping I remember all the moves to MJ's 'Thriller'.

Other than that my coco Joanne Silver is so preggers it's not funny. I hate that last two weeks for her. It is just such a state of limbo to be done but not done. Every hour is like you don't know whether to laugh or cry. I am sending her telepathic pitocin right now. Hang in there, Jola.

And my lucy is starting to crawl! Yay! She has been such an angel baby, so friggin content with her darling little life that she just hangs out. And of course being dorky I have had a little dark spot in the back of my head about it, thinking there is some brain problem reason why she ain't mobile yet. But she is fine. Of course she is fine. It's just that after Monty (who walked at 10 1/2 months and hang dropped out of his crib at 18 months your expectations are a little high. So my lady will be pirouetting around in no time. And then I will be all 'wHY did I want to rush this I wish she would stay still'. We never want what is right in front of us. We look to one side of it or the other and say, 'this is what i want'. Or we look right through it to the other side and say, "Ahh, if only it was this! This is the way it should be!"

Okay I'm going to go. I am reading "Life and Death in Shanghai" and it is so very good.

A

Thought I would post the odd anecdote I wrote when in a writing course a few years ago. Hope youse enjoy, this one is a little long but kinda fun.

Cathedral Blues
By Amy Sloan-Forderer


I couldnt sleep. I stepped out of bed in the near dark, stumbling over the clothes on the floor. I got to my dresser and turned on the lamp.
They were still there. I leaned toward the mirror, nausea coming over me as I dipped forward, and looked closer at the horrible crusty scabs that dotted my chin and one cheek.
I caught a glimpse of my uniform in the mirror behind me. Everything was perfectly arranged atop my desk. School kilt, new monogrammed blouse, and the navy cardigan (hand-me-downed of course but freshly dry-cleaned), with the school crest on the pocket and two white stripes on the sleeve. Beneath the chair were my new black shoes, oxfords with pointy toes, each one with a carefully rolled up navy sock inside it.
These parts of my uniform seemed to be waiting at attention, for a girl to step into and start her first day of high school.
But they were too perfect.

And me, (I looked back into the mirror), me.

I had impetigo on my face.

Nothing mattered. Everything mattered. I wouldnt go, I thought. This should clear up in a few days, the doctor had said so. I would wait it out.
But the uniform, and my eager fourteen year old heart, longed for action.
I had to go. It was the first day, how could I miss it? All my friends from grade eight would be there. Five of us had planned to meet at lunch to spout off all we had learned about high school that morning. I would meet all my teachers. I would put books and lip gloss and new pens in a REAL locker. I would, for the first time in my life, be legitimately allowed to wear eye shadow in public.
I had been waiting my whole life for this day.

I sighed and thought of P.M., the boy I had liked for the whole year of grade eight. I had spent months and months ignoring him in just the right way. I was sure that once we got to high school, once he saw how sophisticated I could be, with the eye shadow and everything, he would absolutely talk to me, (for longer than fifteen seconds that is). But not like this.

The scabs were huge. They threatened to cover my face right over if they kept spreading. I touched them with my index finger one by one. Oh! If I was magic for just a minute I would make them disappear! I was sure God could do it, if he had a mind to.
I put a finger over the worst one on my chin and closed my eyes. I would try the most humble prayer.
O my God I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I detest all my sins and I detest my scabs and please make them go away and I will do anything. Anything you want even go twice to church and sit in the front and go to confession every Saturday and I will never forget to do my penance again just take these stupid (sorry!) scabs and give me back my normal face even with a pimple or two (but not a big one) please God please God please please please!
I could not open my eyes. I knew He hadnt done it. One scab started to itch.

Light was coming to my window. Soon the whole house would be up, water running, hair dryer blaring, someone yelling at someone to get the hell out of the bathroom. My parents were constantly saying we had to move, that four teenagers and one bathroom was just not right.
My sister moved in her top bunk. She was starting grade seven. I wished I was back in grade seven. No I didn’t!

I got into my uniform very slowly. I loved the snug feel of my new socks, the weight of my kilt on my legs. I did not look in the mirror once.

At breakfast I burst into tears. No one said anything mean, but they all looked at me for too long. I was a freak.

When my mom came down I said, 'Maybe I should stay home.'
'Why?' She was surprised!!! 'You look perfect!'
Why? Why?! Was the woman blind??
'Look at me, ma! Look at my face!' I turned to her. She flinched. Imperceptibly, except to me she might as well have jumped back a foot and made the sign of the cross.

'Well, it is on the mend,' she said. 'And there is nothing wrong with you that you should miss your first day of school. You are going to have a great day, honey.' And she hugged me and that was it. I was going to school, a scab monster in a navy and green kilt.

Walking along Main Street I passed my old school. It looked small and friendly, with its two big windows in the front like warm eyes watching me. I longed for it, and yet I proudly sailed along, forgetting my face for a minute. I was beyond all that now. No more one-teacher-for-everything-except-French for me, now I would be going to different classes all day long. No more recess, now I would have a spare. The maturity of it all made me throw my shoulders back. I knew then why they called it High School. We passed other Cathedral students on our way. The girls were instantly identifiable by their Black Watch kilts. The boys, heading to their own school across the street, wore gray pants with their choice of shirt, as long as it had a collar. I had heard my older sister and her friends carry on about this, how the boys had less of a uniform than the girls and how it wasn’t fair. I didnt agree. I felt so great in my uniform, I envied no one.

And then, with a quick glance in a store window, I came crashing back down to impetigo land.

I kept my head down the rest of the way. I met up with two friends from my old class. They already knew about the scabs so it wasnt too bad. We found our lockers, and the sheer thrill of the lock clicking shut sent us into a fit of silliness. We went to the bathroom, where two head-banger girls were smoking! We passed the eye shadow around, then rolled our kilts up at the waist to shorten them, so that we would look less like minor niners. I went in and out of awareness of my face. It was hard to not be excited with all this stuff happening. It was time for homeroom class.

My first teacher was Mr. Doan and he was a bit of a hunk. Great. I scuttled into the classroom, hoping I wouldnt catch his eye. There were only two seats left, at the front. I felt everyone honing in on my scabs. I felt sick. I took one of the seats and kept my eyes on my desk. This was the moment of truth. Would I be branded a freak for the next four years? Would the people around me ask to be moved, so as not to catch the hideous disease I obviously had? My wool cardigan, so crisp just an hour before, felt all crumply and soggy. My collar felt tight. My scabs felt like huge bugs sitting on my face. Mr. Doan took attendance. I felt every syllable of every name pound through my head. Finally, he said it.

'Amy Sloan?'

I had to look up. I couldnt help myself.
'Here.' I gulped. I met Mr. Doan's eyes.
Bless him. He smiled at me, looking for all the world like Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark. He made absolute eye contact, not even for a second did those eyes rest on my scabs.
'Welcome, Amy,' he said.
I smiled back.

I was so glad I had not stayed away. It was a great day. Not easy, mind. During my first high school gym class two hours later the teacher actually made us jog past the boys school! I kept my face turned, so that the better side faced the huge pile of boys hanging out in front. In math class the girl behind me didnt talk to me when I introduced myself to her. She just smirked and then turned to talk to her friend behind her. I felt like a big scabby idiot.
But after school was great. My old friends and I walked each other home, carrying on about everything we had seen and done in the last seven hours. We stopped at Cloverdale and bought a whack of penny candy. We threw our knapsacks up in the air and caught them. (I broke my new geometry set.) It was a great time, and when I got home I told my mom everything.
By the third day of school the cream the doctor had prescribed was working like magic. The biggest scab actually fell off when I smiled at my new friend Heather Walsh at lunch. She pretended not to see me brush it off the front of my sweater. Ugh.

By day five I was me again. And school was great. Looking back, I think I learned something about appearances and happiness and self confidence in the face of disaster, but none of that occurred to me then. I was just glad to be Amy Sloan, grade niner, at Cathedral Girls High.

Well, the baby shower for coco Joanne was a big success. We had fourteen ladies and a ton of laughs. And my house got cleaned like the dickens and is still reasonably clean, except for the many things I kinda shoved in out of the way places that need to be dealt with. We had FUN. Great bunch of girls. Here's a pic.



And of course here is one of the Lucy Loo herself who rolled across the floor from lady to lady. What a weiner-schnitzel.



So good times. But man, this morning I was like a large slab of concrete across the bed. I swear I had only one eye open until ten am. And Sam was home from school with his hackeroo cough. But still rarin to go, of course. I got this pedometer thing with my salad at McDonald's (it's totally cheesy, don't go spending 5.99 on a salad just to get one), and he is obsessed with walking around the house to see how many steps he has taken.

He is so going to school tomorrow.

And I am kind of excited about the finale of 'Without a Trace' tonight at ten. I, like Brian, missed the CSI NY/Miami combo plate thingy and am hoping to be able to see it this summer. Brian, please email me if you hear it is going to be on. I was going to go to 33 Hess tonight with Tracy, but after the hijinks last night with the shower and all, I am in no mood to go anywhere. They have an open mike night there on Thursdays for stand up comics, and I used to do a lot of that, and just do corporate type gigs sporadically now. I havent done the open mike thing in about three years. And I feel like getting my chops back, not that I had these major chops anyways, but I could hold my own. So look forward to hearing about the 33 Hess comeback special soon. I don't even want to go up with any specific material. I just want to wing it and see what happens. So it should be interesting.

Okay well mr van coughson has to get his irritated lungs to bed so i better go help him.

Ciao.

What is the deal with having people over that makes all your stuff look like crap? I am noticing things that I haven't seen for months, like the mistletoe still hanging off the light fixture in my front hall. Like the not one but two broken lamps that are in my living room, that really need to be thrown out but I just mgyver them with clear tape and balance the shade oh so carefully and if anyone goes to turn it on I have to lunge across the room at them and say, "ILL DO IT!!" or they will get electrocuted or upset the whole rig.
And other things, like marks on the kitchen floor that won't come up for love or money or CLR or ammonia or sandblasting. And all the little oopsies I did when I painted three years ago and didnt tape off the ceiling so there are all these blobs of paint. It looks like we had a contractor come in after a triple martini lunch and paint.
And things like my front porch is too small. And the front hall closet is stupid and the stairs going down to the rec room bug me.

I love my dishwasher. We had the inaugural washing last night. Jay loaded it, carefully following the instructions TO THE LETTER about what goes where. And we both stood in front of it and watched the lights blinking and listened to the swish-hum-hiss of it. What a rush.

Okay well I gave the boys an ice cream cone and you just gotta know that they are outside trying to get ants to come have a snackola.

A

Sunday Morning.

And I am in my room with three kids, trying to keep them entertained and out of Daddy's way as he is in the kitchen renovating.

And here is a little RENOVATION STORY.

Chapter 1
Daddy gets the awesome idea to get mommy a dishwasher for Mother's Day. So they go pick a nice one out and all is rosy.

Chapter 2
To find a spot for the dishwasher, the fridge must be kicked out of it's corner of the cuisine and put on the other side of the room. To make room on the other side of the room, the kitchen table and two chairs has got to go. (dining room adjacent so no worries, we can still sit down and eat)

Chapter 3
Now there is a space for DW, but no countertop over it and a ten inch gap between DW and wall. So. Some ideas tossed around, maybe put a piece of beechwood counter top over just the dishwasher, just make it flush with existing counter. Nah. It would look like crap and it would have to have two sides to hold it up and would be really hard to get in there right. So add a new counter top to the shopping list, one that is 8 feet long and goes from the stove to the wall. (looks totally great, by the by).

Chapter 4
We cut the hole for the sink a little too big. So there might not be such a great seal around the sink and what would that do to our beauty new C top? Plus the old sink is so grungy compared to the new C top. So add a double sink purchase. Oh. And new taps because old tap doesnt fit on new sink.

Chapter 5
Wall around and behind fridge must be painted to match the room, it was never done when I changed the color about three years ago. So one can o paint.

Chapter 6
Laminated plywood must be used to build a brace for the end of the countertop beside the dishwasher, to hold it up. So lots of cutting on the old table saw, add wood to the final price of everything. AND a counter top edge kit thingy.

Chapter 7
Because the dishwasher has to be plumbed to the sink, modifications must be made to pipes under sink. And the old stuff must be replaced. And parts of the drawers that we can see will not last much longer must be fixed while we have the counter top off. And there is no plug for dishwasher under/behind the counter so electrical implements must be modified to tap into wires in the wall or new countertop will have to be notched out to bring cord out from behind to reach outlet.

Chapter 8
Since the old countertop was higher at the back, the backsplash tiles don't come down to meet the new countertop. There is a 3/4 inch gap that looks crumbola. So either we fill it with white caulking or rip out the tiles (which go all the way across the wall) and replace them. Jury still deliberating on this one.

Chapter 9
Amy knows that once beauty new C top in, the cupboards will start looking way too shabby. So plans are hatched for painting cupboard base, and either replacing or painting handles or hardware. And of course the end counter top in corner of kitchen will not match the new one so NEXT weekend we will be replacing that countertop. Not so easy to do a corner with the old jigsaw, so this one will have to be ordered. Add it to the total, willya.

Chapter 10
Did I mention there is a baby shower here in four days?

Chapter 11
Bankruptcy?

Chapter 12
I am leaving this open for whatever else will (not may, WILL) happen that will require one more trip to HOME DEPOT. They must get a hoot how the same people keep returning there, looking progressively more worn down over the course of a weekend. I bet the surveillance tapes of the store are played at the Christmas parties for entertainment.

Chapter 13
My husband is a perfectionist. And he just works away and measures everything forty times and does his absolute best. Gotta love him.

Chapter 14
It is REALLY hard to do these kinds of projects with three kids in the house. But we are managing. What else can ya do?

Chapter 15
I gotta go hold a piece of wood.

A

Heya,

Here are ten conclusions I have come up with in the light of seeing Mean Girls, starring Lindsey Lohan.

1. Make up, clothes and hair are still a lot of fun in a movie
2. The freaky artsy friend will never die.
3. The perfect girls will always be bitches even if they have a five minute realization that they should be nicer.
4. Lindsey Lohan's boobs are distractingly displayed in this movie.
5. Lindsey Lohan can act, in spite of her boobs.
6. There are a few long sections of this movie that could have been left on the cutting room floor.
7. There is some funny writing. "I am NOT stopping this car, Janice. I have a curfew of One Am and it is now One Ten and I am NOT stopping this car." as the guy drives veeeryy slowly past the main character so his passenger can say her piece, hanging out of the sunroof.
8. Teenager movies have not changed at all, except for a little more raunchiness, it is still all about the big dance at the end.
9. Low rise pants have not worn out their stay on the fashion front yet.
10. Movie popcorn tastes really good. Always.

So that's that. It was fun to go and see something kind of silly for a change. And I mean it, Lindsey Lohan will do alright for herself. She is waaayyy less annoying than Hillary Fluff.

I am off , going for a bar b Q (the first of the season!) at the Silverses. Just waiting, of course, for Daddy to get home.

I am so ready for me dishwasher. Lots of work to install it as we bought a built in and all we have is an empty space with no countertop to put it in. So Jay has to build a house for it. I am helping get things going by the way of the Electrasol I bought at SDM last night. It smells really lemony. I can't wait to give it a go.

Okay well who knows what those kids are up to. Later.
A.

I have just finished helping Sam clean his room and I am utterly hot and exhausted. Had to kick Monty out of there four times because he was pulling things out and dumping them on the floor that we had just tidied. Monty as a superhero would be THE DISMANTLER. He could just go to the criminals houses and make such a mess they would be so busy cleaning they would not have a chance to do crimes.

Sam would be THE QUESTIONER. He would just ask the criminals sooo many questions aobut the same thing that they would start to cry and go have a drink. It is the second day of grounding.
"Why am I grounded, Mommy?"
"You know why, Sam."
"Just tell me again. Why?"
"Because you went into the garage without asking, Sam."
"But I did ask! Why can't I have asked Anty Bon if she's a grown up?"
"Because Daddy told you to ask me or him. And you brought friends in there and you know you're not supposed to do that."
"But I didnt! Okay, Dimitri went in for ONE MINUTE with his foot and then he got out! I swear! Why am I grounded?
"You know they were in there for lomger than that, Sam. Nice try."
"But WHYYY? Why can't I just go on the porch? I won't play, I will just watch my friends! Why can't I do THAT?"
"Because you're grounded."
"That is SO STUPID! Why am I grounded?"

And around and around and around we go and where he will stop I will never know. Because I will have collapsed from sheer exhaustion from answering questions. He will probably keep asking anyway.

Eight year old kids have a lot of little toy type things that are ABSOLUTELY essential for well being. If you happen to be invited to a party for a kid six and up, do the parents a favour and avoid the following toys:

Bionicles (five hundred little body parts for robot guys in a cylinder shaped can which has a lid that instantly becomes lost, and if they lose one of the essential bionicle joiny pieces then the whole thing is just a 'piece of crap'.)

Kinex (an awesome building toy that has millions of little connecting pieces and I am sure is super educational if you managed to recover said pieces from the couch cushions and bathtub drain and under the dresser and actually built something besides 'the longest snake in the world'.)

Legos (again, of course, a perennial favorite but man, those pieces just keep getting smaller and smaller. We have a pair of lego goggles for a tiny lego Anakin and he can't fly without em. These goggles are about 1/4 inch big. Try finding that in the backyard grass, buddy.)

That's all I can think of for now. And I have to get Sammy to Karate and we are picking up our DISHWASHER tonight (whooopppeeee!) and I was going to try to go see Mean Girls with Tracy.

So I bettera goa. Ciao.+

Man the weather outside is a bit delightful.
But soon I will be wanting les conditionne des airs. I have a couple of people coming to give me a quote this week. I dont care if we don't have all the money for it. We are getting it anyways. The bedrooms upstairs are insane in the hot weather. Nobody sleeps. All we do is sweat and whine. So.

Isn't it a riot though, that within two days of beautiful weather that has been so long getting here, I am going off about the heat? And isn't it a riot that no matter what, the weather is always a topic of conversation somewhere? Can we stop with the weather already? Can we move on?

I have a gig tonight at Knox church for their ladies spring dinner thingy. Totally going in cold, well hot, I guess. I just havent had any mind to prepare for it so I will have to rely on the memory bankses. It'll be fine.

Other than that I am really looking forward to afterschool because Sammy is grounded and what fun it will be to listent to the constant drone and heartache and the vale of tears as his friends go running by outside and he can't join them. He was told on Monday night big daddy lecture, not to go into the garage or bring his friends into the garage or remove things from the garage. Too much dangerous stuff in there until it gets cleaned out and every single time he goes in there he takes things out and does not return them or even shut the garage door after. So. He was told.

Tuesday afternoon comes by, so do all his buddies and I am out at my birthday pedicure and dr's appt and he totally takes advantage of Auntie Bon's not knowing about the whole garage thing and asks her if he can get his water gun out of the garage. What a bum. So in they all traipse and bring out a few things and generally have a rip roaring good time. Till Daddy gets home. Then the shite hits the fanola.

So he is grounded for two days. And really, it is just as much punishment for me, because I have to be the heavy. But I am still bigger than him. I can do it.

I haven't posted any pics in a while. Here is a picture of my pedicured foot in my new sandals.



And here is phase one of the Stag N Doe outfit. I got these at the Amity for six bucks!



I was going to post the picture of my newly waxed upper lip but that is a little over the top I guess. Well, I better go do some sort of cleaning or something. I am having a baby shower here in one week and um, people could get lost on the way to the bathroom among all the junk laying around.

Ciao.

Mortgage day today. It all goes down at 7pm. Just have to find our house insurance papers first. Hmm. I am not the most diligent filer of paperage, but I have gotten better. There are two filing cabinets downstairs from when Jay had his Fluid Pro business. One is a huge four drawer one. It is 85 percent full of crap, from the business, that I don't know whether to throw out or not. Well, thats not true, I could probably get rid of the pizza joint flyers and old hydraulic catalogues. And fifteen percent is one little section of our household papers. Kind of willy nilly in there, a complicated filing system that only my type of brain would understand. ( I know Sandy, if she is reading this, is probably having a good laugh right now.)

You see, I kind of have this life. This life I manage to live despite the fact that most days I am not organized or even a little bit cohesive about. I pull important papers out of the garbage just in time, blow off the popcorn crumbs and hand them to the lady at the bank with a Whew! I go to give my credit card number for the chinese food guy and of course it is not in my purse, so I tell him to hang on and then fly out the front door to find it on the floor of my car beside the front seat. "Here we are!" I am calling the rrsp investor group that we use to tell them on April 30 that I lost the rrsp receipt thingy they sent us for, you know, like, the income tax form? (verbatim here), only to find out, a few months later, that it is in the envelope still, unopened up on a shelf beside the cookbooks.

I can't believe I haven't gotten put under some kind of arrest for disorder yet. They haven't found me out, because, somehow, I always manage, by the skin of my fangs, to get by. Hee Hee. I pay all the bills at this place, do all the banking and cheque writing and shopping, in my own half crazy way. Now, of course, said bills aren't always, how you say, on time. And I usually have absolutely no idea how much money we have in the bank at any given time. Every cheque I write is sent off with a little kiss for good luck. But remarkably I have never bounced a cheque! Amazing, isn't it? And only once did I forget to pay the hydro bill for so long that the guy came to disconnect it and I ran out there and threw money at him and all was fine. I mean, there have to be a few slip ups, I have been doing this job for ten long years.

Money bugs me. As soon as someone starts trying to explain money issues to me, I get all squirmy and twitchy. I know this half-mad willy nilly management of a household is no way to live. But here I am, eh. And here I go. I have to go find that wily insurance paper.......

If you want a fun activity to make time go really fast then visit Austin's blog. He has this movie link-six degrees-thingy going that is a bit of a blast. In fact it kept me from my own blogging this morning. It also kept me from making Sam's lunch and getting him on the bus by 830, but totally worth it.

Nice day FINALLY. Jay is playing golf after work (trying hard not to be bitter here) so it is a good day for it. Monty fell asleep on the couch, he exhausted himself playing with his 'guys' (a little spidey in a car and a long piece of lego that I think was some kind of stick space man) and now it is lovely and peaceful in here, the breezeroo going from the front screen through to the kitchen window. Ahhh.

Of course, the piles are bugging me. The piles are the bane of my existence. (Please know immediately that I am not referring to hemorrhoids here!) I mean the piles of clothes that have to be put away, the piles of books that I have no more room on my shelves for, the piles of papers that I can't bear to go through, the piles of dishes beside the sink, the piles of toys in each and every corner of this house. The piles of ebay items that are to be listed. I don't need a maid. I need a pile-driver. A pile-dealer. I need to get out of here.

This weather always reminds me of high school, when those first warm days finally kicked in and all the girls changed from wool Bonnie Doon tights to knee socks with our kilts. And we would sit in the courtyard at lunch, sunning our knees, school cardigans thrown on the ground beside us, sharing a bag of barbecue ringolos while we skipped 5th period English. Fun.

When I was younger, like eight or ten, our house had tons of red and yellow tulips on one side of the porch. And I would spend time with those tulips, running my fingers along the dusky green leaves, looking into the middle of the flowers close enough to see the fine dust on the black pieces inside them, holding the flower in my hand and squeezing a little, enough to make the petals meet each other in the centre.

And spring meant that after a long winter of disinterest, you felt like having a slurpee again. And that when I looked in the bathroom mirror at night after playing outside for hours, my dirty face would have a few new freckles. And that awesome smell combination of barbecuing and cut grass and warm earth would meet you as you walked home from a friend's house after school.

Now, grown up with my own kids who stare for ten minutes at the footprint they make when they have a muddy shoe, I am filled with memory. And spring still has it's wonder.

And the reverie is over. Monty woke up. Toodles.

Taking a breaky from my multitasking. The vacuum is at attention in the living room. The dishes are 'soaking' in the sink. Monty is (of course) in Spidey regalia, waiting for me to take him outside for a run (well, he is a bit like a Jack Russel Terrier, no question). Lady Luck is waiting for a bit of nosh. I have a bunch of ebes to list. I have to call Uncle Donny and tell him his little mortgage holding days are over. (kind of putting this off.) I have to take a DVD player back to Wal Mart. I have to pack about ten things to mail tonight. The laundry that I oh so carefully folded on Sunday night is still on the foos ball table in the rec room, and it is slowly becoming dismantled as we keep reaching in there to get a pair of socks or underwear, or whatever.

Thats about it for me, how bout you?

Gotta jet. Out of all the contestants for my time, Monty wins again.

Hola

Here is a mini review of Kill Bill Vol 1 & 2 which I saw within twelve hours of each other on the weekend.

1. Blood.
2. Bodies being thrown around.
3. Great story.
4. Awesome main character.
5. Samurai swords.
6. Eyeballs plucked out.
7. Three inch punch.
8. Anime sequence.
9. Black and white flashback sequence.
10. Did I already say great storytelling?

Uma was awesome. Her long lanky frame and quirky beauty were a perfect choice for Beatrix Kiddo. She moves through the film like a warrior giraffe on a catwalk. Her teeth are unbelievably straight across the bottom, which makes all of Tarantino's inquisitive close-ups a real treat. She addresses the camera several times in the film but never in a typically starletty seductive way. She is matter of fact like a guy, but her eyes are all woman.

The writing is smart and tight. Tarantino does just what you should do with a plot--show the audience a little bit of what's going on, and then make 'em wait. Except for a little too much lollygagging at the end with Beatrix and Bill and the kid, the dialogue is rarely superfluous or forced. I love the commentary by Beatrix, and love love the title frames announcing times dates and places. I love that QT isn't afraid to constantly remind us that we are watching a movie. This is smart, because it makes the violence easier to swallow.

That said. MY LORD. Les Violence est tres tres. QT tries his best to make it arty, with the blood showering everyone in slo mo and all, but it is what it is. The sword fighting scenes were awesome, elegant, even. Loved Beatrix's training with the old master Pai Pei. The crazy 88's were fun to watch go down. But there were a few choice momentes when I wished, too late, that I had covered my eyes. Blech.

Watching the two movies so close together really melded them for me. And the storyline is criss crossed so that you get the beginning of the story in the second film, etc. I like this, it adds to the mystery. QT is all about giving us the what and then letting the why ooze out slowly during the rest of the film.

I give Kill Bill Vol 1 & 2 a definite recommend. Just don't whine to me after that it was too violent. It is too violent. It's kinda called, um, KILL Bill.

Arrevederchee

Heya,

Didn't blog for a coupla days because I just couldn't. My little Monty that I was complaining about in my last post had a little trouble in Fortinos on Wed night and since it has been on my mind constantly, and I can usually only write about what's on my mind, I couldn't write.

We were shopping, and Fortinos has those two tier carts. So I put Lucy in the top tier and Monty sitting in the bottom tier and Sammy (of course) walking beside me. So Sam finds this big flexible Spiderman and Monty goes to reach for it and falls out of the cart. On his head.

He is screaming like a banshee and I am sitting there hugging him, and people are like, is heokay. So I checked out his head and it looks fine, hardly a bump even. So we continue shopping.

Within five mins he is about to throw up. He starts crying that hes 'gonna pyook'. My stomach does a triple sow cow and I park the cart full of groceries in the aisle, pick up Lucy's car seat (with her in it) and Monty on one hip and the four of us march to the Customer Service. I am thinking ambulance but then a little rationale takes over and I call my doctors after hours hotline thingy. But it is long distance and the line they give me will not complete the call. So I call the guy over and I say, "Look. I need a line that will call a long distance number. NOW." He must have seen the mother-lion eye of the tiger in my eyes because he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and hands it to me without a word.

I call the number and talk to the darling nurse. She is a honey who goes through all monty's symptoms with me and tells me he should be fine. I have to keep an eye on him and take him to the hospital if he barfs more than twice or loses consciousness. Monty at this point is already pulling all the flyers out of the PC financial booth display. So we go back to our cart and then get our stuff and leave.

On the way down Mount Albion Monty decides to slump over and have a little nap. Only I am in supercharged paranoia will destroy ya mode and I think he passed out. I almost drive the car over the rail onto the tenth hole of Glendale Golf Course. "MONTY!!!!" I scream at him. He opens his eyes, "What." "WHAT ARE YOU DOING BUDDY?" "I tyered, Mommy". Okay.

I mean, of course the kid is tired, its past seven o clock.

The rest of the night tick tocks by, punctuated by random thoughts of brain damage side effects and Jay or I looking over Monty's head at each other whenever he says something wierd or nonsensical, which, when you are talking about Monty, happens alot. We keep him up with us until 11pm. The nurse had said to rouse him every two hours and make sure he knows who we are. So he sleeps in our bed and I go way beyond the two hour thing and keep this insane wide awake vigil beside him, just watching him breathe through his beautiful pouty mouth and poking him every twenty minutes so he will flick me away sleepily or grunt.

And it all is fine. Although he bangs his head at the playland at McDonald's on Friday and then I start obsessing all over again. But it was not a big bang like Wed. So of course he is fine, it is just me that needs a heart transplant.

Because it kills ya, you know. I rarely envy people that don't have kids. (Except for the whole zipping off to vacations or the movies spontaneously thing that everyone envies) I really don't. Because I can't imagine how empty I would feel without those little bodies of loving and silliness and personality in my life. But when this stuff happens, I am like, wow. Non parents have none of these worries. None of the gut-clenching heart-pounding brain-exploding with fear and guilt moments. So I envy that sometimes.

And it is so hard to write about this stuff because in yhe writing is the reliving. Anyone who writes'll tell you, the zipadeedoodah days are a cinch to write about. It's when your life swoops down fast and stays there for a while. That's what hurts to put into letters and words.

Anyway. I will stop now. Gotta breathe. A nod up to all those guardian angels working overtime on Monty watch. Hang in there guys, he's worth it.