I made it three steps into the basement last night (the second basement). Guess what was there to greet me? An albino spider! I have decided that whatever I heard, "could have been coming from outside", but just in case, I threw a brick of poison down the stairs, closed the hatch and ran.

Pussy

This ding dong fosters kittens, but doesn't foster women's equality or rights. (There's a joke in here somewhere, besides the guy in the picture).

Gag

Tibbles decided to make popcorn last night. She is a regular popcorn maker, and does it very efficiently in our vintage hot air popcorn maker. Unfortunately, she got a surprise when her kernels exploded. Inside the popcorn maker was a house centipede. The popcorn maker blew the legs clean off the centipede and the legs landed delicately in the bowl. The poor child, now she doesn't want to make popcorn anymore. She is scarred for life. Her expression was worse than on the roller coaster at Canada's Wonderland. The horrors of old houses. The moral of the story - check your bowls & check your cups prior to use.

My youngest daughter came home from school a few weeks ago, in tears, saying that a girl said that she had hairy legs. My daughter is eight pushing nine. I don't think that the razor is a good solution. So, after much pleading, and begging, I brought out my dusty leg hair exfoliating machine. It is like a small orbital sander that obliterates leg hair in minutes. . . I figured it was the lesser of a few evils, stinky creams, foams, razors, waxing, whatever. It worked too. No pain, no crying, and a kid who felt much better about her self image. My problem with the scenario is that, again, why do kids have to start worrying about these things at such a young age? I realize, my daughter was not blessed with smooth legs, but at eight years old, girls should not be that concerned about body image. I may have fed into the ideal, but as a mother you are torn. Personally, I do not want my daughter to endure years of teasing because she has extra strong fibrous fortified follicles. I myself have been there and done that, that so I felt a lot of empathy when my daughter pleaded for a solution. I have always hoped that home grown cross hatched hair pants would come into style, but alas, it hasn't happened yet. I went to the basement (okay, it was more like "jumped" to the ladder to the basement) and had to find some caulk. I was on a caulk mission, and no one could stop me from attaining the tube of gooey goodness. That's when I heard the sound. I don't exactly know what the sound was, but any sound in the basement is not a good one. Especially MY basement. I am referring to the second basement that I haven't been down in for over two and a half years. No one has been down there. Since my husband decided to "renovate", all my antiques are in the back of the house and on top of the other basement access. I can see through the foundation to this basement from my other basement. I heard noises in the second basement. So what was a girl with caulk in hand to do. Just run. I ran up the ladder and jumped to the floor of the main house with gusto. The damn pug and the other dogs were at the door to the main floor pawing and clawing at me, and then I almost lost my footing and dropped the damn caulk. I made a quick save, and then pondered, drinking to calm my nerves (it works in the movies). Nah, but if I had some brandy in the house, it might have been a nice end to a dramatic moment. Shite. . .does it ever end? Really. Everyday a drama of sorts. If it's not something leaking, squeaking, reeking or creaking. . .

What would it be like to have absolute silence? The kind of silence that you get when you actually hear your own ears making that nondescript sound. No dogs panting, snorting, farting, no kids fighting, no cats mewling, no house creaking, no husband making popping sounds with his mouth appliance while he sleeps, just pure unadulterated silence. I actually put in my earplugs again to stifle some of the noise. On second thought, if I did have that silence, it would probably indicate that I kicked the bucket, lying tits up in a cardboard box anticipating cremation. I miss working outside the house, I miss the social life, I miss the lack of snorting that was at one time replaced by metallic crunching and screeching of cars on dollies. I miss watching the robots and the big robotic hands that were used in stamping. I would stand outside that area, waiting for my hubby and just watch the scary big hands grabbing the sheet metal methodically and without emotion. Man, I wish sometimes I was bionic, either that or had go go gadget arms. I guess all this stems from a few social snubs I have had recently. At first I chalked it up to "maybe they didn't hear me say hi", then I chalked it up to "maybe they were drunk", "maybe they were high" or "maybe in their family they weren't taught certain social moires", or "possibly they were in a bad mood" . Now I have decided it's a snub. On over five separate occasions with the individuals separately in question, I have said "hello" less than two feet in front of their faces, had direct contact, and they turned away. . . weird. Now, I remember taking my youngest to the park when we first moved here. I said hello to a frumpy mother sitting on a bench and she turned away, a complete 180. I am going to assume that all this is poor manners, and I am going to keep saying hello. Yet instead of just saying it, I am going to yell loudly. It's laughable really. Small towns are not always what Stuart McLean purports them to be (as my mom says, he lives in a CITY), and rural living is not always a Dan Needles Utopia. On another note, Facebook doesn't suck that much, at least I'm getting poked by something. I also received my Green Jesus Hanky in the mail.

I feel so much better when I wear carnelian yet I need a bowling ball sized stone, packing gives me a severe case of Adult Onset ADHD. Long johns, kids stuff, dog stuff, alcoholic beverages, more alcoholic beverages. . . can't find my contacts, I can't find anything to wear. Maybe I should just go outside and garden.

Look What I Caught

I love animals, but I don't like animals that are invading my house. I thought I had a mouse, but it was a SHREW. It has five digits, unlike a mouse and they are not rodents. Wookie was walking around with a mouse trap in her mouth. "How odd", I exclaimed. There was a commotion at the back of the house, and my Boston Terrier was goobering all over this dead mammal. I had to manually remove the shrew from his jaws, hence the wet look of the shrew, as shrews are not known to use hair gel. It was a very gross experience. The pic shows the shrew sealed in a Ziploc Bag. What I don't understand is how, Wookie and Tully worked together to remove the shrew from the trap. I didn't hear any conversation, "Here, Wookie, you hold down the back and I will get the critter with my teeth", or anything of the sort. They must have been logically working out a solution while I was stirring my coffee. Stella just observed the situation. I can't get the woodstove going, it's 14 degrees celcius in here. LJ's locked and loaded, but I refuse to put on the furnace.

Black flies or Ants?

Tully has a few blemishes, it is obviously bites, from black flies or ants. Poor little man, I put some antibiotic stuff on his belly, and it seems to have dulled it down a bit. I noticed that the big black ants have started their annual trek into the house, but the bugs outside are horrendous as well. He is not itching, but it looks horrible. Update: yes, either black fly or ant bites. I am using a light spray of neem to repel them when the dogs go outside.

Dog Run

Hmmmm, was this a good idea? I have fencing for the dog run now, but the size of the concrete attached to the posts is unbelievable, the bolus of 'crete is as large as I am, well, at least as heavy.. I tried hitting them with the maul, but it barely makes a dent in the stuff. I am sure if I had a concrete saw, it may help. Or just plant the dang things.

Nice storm last night. . . we had gobstopper sized hail. The sky went black around 4 or 5 pm. Here's some pics. Update. . .this must have been closer to 6 pm, Adam, going through Monkton, encountered hail and fierce winds. A tornado did touch down in the area. Yay for Adam making it home unscathed.

What the heck do people want with ugly Dante bookends? I listed them once about two weeks ago, and they only had 12 or so hits. This time, re listing them, they have had over 200 hits. Not that they are a pricey item, I list my stuff low, but really, why the sudden urge for these monstrosities? As I sit beside them, I want to gag and they are staring at me in the most irksome way. They definitely do not make you feel comfortable, I feel like I am intruding when I am near them. The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo! Here is how you matched up against all the levels: Level Score Purgatory (Repenting Believers) Very Low Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) Very High Level 2 (Lustful) Moderate Level 3 (Gluttonous) Moderate Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) Very Low Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) Very High Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) Very High Level 7 (Violent) High Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) Moderate Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) Low Take the Dante's Inferno Test Geez, I almost made it to Purgatory, bummer. The funny thing is, other items are not selling at all, stuff that is really neat. I re listed my suede and toscana sacrifice jacket for the last time, and not a single person has showed the least bit of interest (I am actually happy about it, because I LOVE the jacket). There are watchers on other items, but alas no bids. It normally takes three listings to sell one item. Weird. I can't sleep tonight because I am really excited for two friends, who have the stork appearing tomorrow. A bambino is on the way. Babies are so full of hope and potential, and they are such a loving family, that this new addition is going to bring such joy to their family. I want to get out and get a gift, but I am stuck, since the van pooped on us, and Adam has Antonio all to himself. It's hard trying to think back to that baby phase of your life, and think what was a really good, utilitarian item. You can only receive so many receiving blankets, and bibs. I have been itching to buy someone the organic cotton onesy set that I saw at P'lovers. It comes with little booties and looks so comfortable. So the insomnia, coupled with the fact that I have taken my "sleepy times" is kind of making me a bit gibbled. I have put through three loads of wash, vacuumed the rear end of my fridge, pulled out both stoves, vacuumed them, and hung some wash to dry on my indoor drying rack. I want a clothesline and my self proclaimed "envirogeek" hubby hasn't had the time to help me. Dryers are the worst thing for hydro. So maybe tomorrow I will fart around and try to string up a clothesline, if the hail doesn't come and bonk me on the head. Back to the "envirogeek" self title (he used it on Facebook). . .he is spending so much time on Facebook, no wonder he doesn't have time to help put up a clothesline. I like to call it FaceCrack, I hate it. I did get in touch with an old friend, who is hilarious, but other than that, it's a big waste of time. Ya, I've got some friends, but I would rather see them in person than actually keep getting poked. I don't put up my maiden name for various reasons, and most people who knew me, knew me as that. I am part of the Ron Burgundy fan club though. "San Diego. . .in German it means a whale's vagina". The Anchorman rocked.

Tibbles is allowed to go for a bike ride with a friend for the first time unsupervised. She has been given an hour, an hour of freedom, to just go and peddle for all she's worth. I would love to install a GPS tracking system in one of her earrings, but I think that is a little much. I didn't have the walkie talkies charged, next time I will send one. As she sped off, I took note of what she was wearing, and was, in a loud voice telling her, to look both ways, don't talk to strangers, stay with your friend, don't go into other houses etc. etc., until she disappeared around the corner and couldn't hear me anymore. She is almost nine years old. When I think back to what I was allowed to do at that age, I feel that I have been over protective, but I also know that bad things can happen to any kid. I feel like I am holding my breath until she arrives in the driveway. "But it's a small town", and "everyone knows everyone" spiel has been regurgitated to me, and I inevitably yawn through it. There is a highway that carves it's way through the dot on the map where we happen to live. Everyone may know everyone, but there are still oddballs, and things do happen in small towns, only it's swept under the carpet and covered up, and not talked about. When I remember two incidents that happened to me at age four, in suburbia, a hop, skip and a jump from my parent's home, I have the right to be over protective, and anxious. 5:11 ~Tibbles arrived home (late, and had a lecture). I can resume oxygen intake.

There are some garage sales around, and I don't have the "intestinal fortitude" to go to any. Knowing that I have a huge chalk ware collection that has to be sold, (Dante Bookends have had over 136 hits), and copious amounts of other crap down in the basement, I just don't feel like adding to the collections. I think I am going to unload my gorgeous collection of spring green and gold Alfred Meakin Sunshine. This is a gorgeous set, that has tureens etc. It is not the ugly Meakin stuff either, no picture of a person in the centre. Just cream, with a thick green band and gold filigree. There is also a tree to plant today. It is cold today, 14 Celsius, and I think I am going to wear long johns again. I started a fire in the wood stove this morning. Shiver me timbers. Wookie has started to do some odd things. . . 1) Talk to you. . .she thinks she is speaking. She signals she wants something and then stands in front of you and barks. 2) Snort. . .this is very odd, shepherd mixes don't usually snort. My theory, is that with the two other nasally dogs (pug and boston), she thinks this is a cool way to be and has succumbed to peer pressure. 3) Drink from the water dish, not swallow the last gulp, run over to you and deposit the water on your lap. WTF? I guess she likes to share.

A Chuckle

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: When you go home tonight I want you to get your parents to sit down and tell you a little story with a "moral" at the end of it. So the next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories "Johnny, do you have a story to share?" "Yes ma'am. My daddy told a story about my Aunt Barb. She is a chopper Pilot in Afghanistan and on one mission her chopper got hit. She had to set that sucker down right in the middle of enemy territory and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol with an extra clip and a survival knife. So she drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break when she crashed, then her chopper landed right in the middle of twenty enemy troops. She shot fifteen of them with the gun until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Afghanistan with her bare hands." "Good Heavens" said the horrified teacher. "What kind of moral did your daddy tell you from this horrible story?" "Stay the fuck away from Aunt Barb when she's drinking..."

Yodel

If your significant other yells your name, and you know they are operating a heavy piece of machinery what do you do? 1) Stride like a gazelle to find out what's wrong, because you are curious, and somewhat caring, or just want a good laugh. 2) Yell back, see if you get a response, if not, run swiftly to see what is wrong. 3) Do nothing, continue to pontificate male pattern baldness. 4) Hope that a neighbour aids your significant other, and then brings you a box of Rogaine. 5) Hope the old bag is crumpled underneath a lawn tractor, and has sustained multiple contusions and a concussion. My first response is #1, but obviously, it wasn't my husbands "choice", he picked door #3. This response is from a guy who spent a few minutes with both thumbs stuck in a ladder on a construction job. He was half way up the ladder, his construction buddy was on the other side of the house. Everything was okay, because my neighbour came and got me out of my pickle. I was stuck halfway up a ramp, couldn't put it into gear, had run out of gas, and have a fear of flipping the tractor (okay, in retrospect, I may not have been in imminent danger, but that is not the point, I have a love hate relationship with my lawn tractor). My neighbour was the one who said "Don't worry, I am coming dear". It's not that I yell my husband's name very often, I don't ask for his help much at all, as I find he is benign and the equivalent to the human pillow. He did admit to hearing my yodel. "The tragedy of love is indifference" ~ Maugham.

It's A Perfect Day For Pointing

It's a perfect day for pointing. No, not pointing your finger at your funny looking neighbours that live across the street, or at the Drive By Fry Guy, but tuck pointing. I love mortar. I love bricks. I love the Zen feeling I get when I mix the mortar up and shove it into the abyss between the bricks and the failing mortar of old houses. Now, I know that there is a recipe out there for making your own soft mortar, and I didn't use it. That may turn out to be a bad, but judging by the way the bricks on the rental house have withstood the abuses of past owners using cement, I figured, plain old mortar will suffice. There were no cracks in the bricks where cement was used. I know there is an actual recipe in Mother Earth News, but I can't find the issue. I also had a bag of mortar on hand so, I decided, what the heck. It's better to fill in those nooks than to let them deteriorate. You don't want the mortar stronger than the bricks, that's when you get the cracking and other problems. I am leaving the chimney to Adam though, I don't do heights. I have tried my hardest to find white medusa around here. No luck, and again people at hardware stores thought I had been in the glue aisle sniffing adhesive again, when I was asking for the stuff.

Gogol Bordello - start wearing purple

I miss Adam's purple 1990's cords.. .

Kids in the Hall: Daves I know

This is too awesome.

Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy - I'm Gay!

This is "fantastic" in an Absolutely Fabulous kinda way.

Something so utterly horrible that it was hilarious happened on the power walk last night that I can't even post it. My walking buddy and I laughed so hard, there were tears and loose bladders. We were balanced on the precipice of the absurd, and then toppled. We were giggling like school girls. There aren't many people in the world that can cause this to happen, just a look and you are suddenly in the realm of convulsive, crying laughter. My abs still ache, and I cannot get the snapshot out of my head of what we saw. It was just soooo bad. I think we should take a different route next time. One thought that does sober one up at times like these, is the thought of a spider nest living in your ear. Two spiders pitched a tent, and had a camp out in a young boy's ear near the maleus, incus and stapes terrain. Ewwwwww. How gross. The doctor had to flush the ear canal twice, and out came the arachnids. The afflicted child had heard rice crispy sounds in his ear and had complained to his mother. It was right there on the Yahoo news. It's bad enough knowing that you have potentially swallowed one, let alone having them break out the coleman stove in your ear. http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/capress/070506/koddities/oddity_us_spider_boy_1

Blyth Brook Pics

Just some more Blyth Brook pics. . . Stella, Tully, and Wookie came, so did Tibbles and Gibbles and Addled. What a handful. The pug was right in the water, she's like a little mountain goat and very agile.

A Funny Joke

A tour bus driver is driving with a bus load of seniors down a highway when he is tapped on his shoulder by a little old lady.She offers him a handful of peanuts,which he gratefully munches up. After about 15 minutes, she taps him on his shoulder again and she hands him another handful of peanuts.She repeats this gesture about five more times. When she is about to hand him another batch again he asks the little old lady,why don't you eat the peanuts yourself?" We can't chew them because we've no teeth", she replied. The puzzled driver asks,"Why do you buy them then?" The old lady replied,?"We just love the chocolate around them." It pays to be careful around old people.

Garden Pics

Here's some more of my icky garden. In the summer it looks okay from the road, but as soon as you get up close to it, it looks like "scorched earth policy". It is in direct south facing sun. It doesn't even look like I did any weeding at all, and as for that "dock stuff", I think I will have to try and kill it again. It is invading my hens and chicks.

Side Garden

I just don't know what to do with this garden. . . I weeded a bit, but I don't know if I am pulling viable plants. Maybe I should just pull up everything I like, and then transplant it somewhere else. Then, just plant gout weed around this side of the house. It would make life a lot easier.

Dock Weed

The speedy weedy works for dandelions, but not this "dock" stuff that has taken over areas of the yard. This picture was found on Wikipedia. Supposedly this invasive bugger can throw out as many as 40 000 seeds! No wonder my turf looks lousy, it is infested. Boiling water, pickling vinegar, slashing, pulling, yelling, sign language, all have been vain attempts at eradication. The roots on this plant are tuberous and yellow, and seem to be about four feet deep. I have now resorted to chemical means of killing. I feel guilty, but, what can you do? I would rather have no grass at all, and have wildflowers, but, it can look extremely messy and unkempt at certain times of the year.