Onyx & Tibbles

Did The Lead Singer From Helix Get All Jiggy With Jesus?

Addled sent me an email in the wee hours of the morning that read: "I'm upset that we don't live in London anymore. We could have offered accommodations to these lovely young men." LOL. . .sometimes Addled can be quite witty. It was a post on kijiji. It begs me to ponder "what's in that guy's Slurpee?" He looks like the guy from Helix. The other guy looks like Gowan with a hint of Adam and the Ants. I must admit, I am not a big fan of the dreads, I knew a guy who got busted for having a magic mushroom attached to one of his dreadlocks. Dreads just make me itchy. I tried it years ago, Addled has had dreads as well. Wanted: Greetings Prospectve Shelter Provider Price: Please contact A notice to all: Greetings, I and my brother from another mother Daryn Moonwater will be in London by June 1. London will be a base of operations and is the first leg in what will become a traveling show whose mission is to spread th’Love. While in London we desire to stay for a time in a place owned/stewarded/run by someone who at least suspects their own divine nature/connection; who experiences or desires peace in their own reality and who desires like us to develop further the re-membrance to their Higher Selves. A little insight into who we are: Daryn and I are ministers; humble servants of th’Love at large and on a mission for Creator/God/All That Is. With us there is an amazing dog named Soma. Soma is beautiful beyond the word; is of high level intelligence and is not only one of the best trained animals I have ever had the pleasure to be around, he is also a brother from another mother. Our mission and our service manifests in as many forms as there are sisters and brothers in need. We know that everything in life is energy in vibration including you and us as well as peace and suffering. We understand that by practicing peace; willingly extending our energy through service and manifesting our own deepest desires we expand to become better us’s and improve our specific expression of Creator Consciousness. Through the process of celebrating all of life in our own lives we thrive and model for all our sisters and brothers the potential for their own expression of th’Awesomeness… in this way there is no preachin required. We also understand that many will not read this request in the spirit it is given and our Awesomeness is not affected. If there are any among you who have such a place to offer two of God’s humble ministers and their fine brother Soma; who feel that they would like to be associated with our version of high vibration then please respond to this notice with your phone number and we will contact you. To our mass growth in consciousness and th’Love to us all, Clint J. Mitchell Which also leads me to the question. . ."When is the Awesomeness Mothership going to beam down and pick you up?" "How high is your vibration?" "What model?" "Where can I get it?" "Variable Speed?" Or as Zappa says "Is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?" Who on earth would take these guys in? Homeowners who would even think about it, must be sniffing adhesives. (Actually, I did forward Rutiger's number to them) Heeheee. Today, I am driving my favourite tenant to the doctors, later on this afternoon. While she is there, I will probably pop in to a few thrift stores. I am not looking for anything in particular, but you just never know what you are going to find. My favourite areas are the glass ware and the wooden hanger area. Last night while at doggy training, I asked about what to do when a dog pushes through your legs as you are walking. I was told they are most likely trying to lead you and you are to lock your knees around their heads. I have bruises all over my knees from the dogs pushing me, and when Onyx gets to his full weight, if this continues, he will probably knock me ass over tea kettle. As both dogs do it, I figured it was a genetic trait, part of the GSD coming out as they are herding dogs.

There is this huge chicken in my freezer that really needs to be thawed out. I should cook it, it's an organic, free range, hormone free, commune bird that spoke fluent Italian. Every time I open the freezer door, it rolls out and my feet try to avoid getting squished. I wish my Mom was here to thaw it for me. Call me lazy, call me distracted, I just don't feel like doing anything. I even asked my daughter to pretend she was sick so we didn't have to go to doggy class this evening. She started pretending to choke and cough, then I felt guilty. My problem is with doggy class and Wookie is that the drive itself stresses her out so much that by the time she gets there, she is not herself. (She has severe motion sickness, and has a 45 minute threshold, the drive is about a half an hour). So any steps gained, are absolutely lost by the time we get there because she is disoriented. Then I get sweaty on the nose, feeling like I have let my dog down. I am being graded on this course. Gibbles is at that camp this week. Which is a nice break for her, and for me. The problem is the venue. Why would you send a bunch of country kids to the country? Why not send them to Quebec like my school did? I bet the cost would be on par plus they would actually encounter the multi cultural experience. Later. . . .took Wookie and Tibbles to training. This time, it went extremely well. Wookie was awesome on recall (the toy that squeaks), and using my actual mother voice along with high pitched "pup pup pup pup". Amazing, Wookie did a fine job.

Ralph the Girl Dog

Oh, this is a good one.

Penny Sale

Yesterday, WB walked down in the morning "with a cup of ambition", we sat at the picnic table in the back yard and swatted black flies and ogled at her baby. There was a penny sale happening at the legion, which we decided to attend. After lugging her baby stroller up some very steep stairs we went inside and bought tickets. I am hoping for either the big tomato plant or the pedicure. While we were there, looking over the stuff, from underneath a hat crawled a huge spider. Black, fuzzy and as juicy as a concord grape. One of the old legion ladies tried swatting it away, it crawled frantically towards me, and I went into panic mode, running on the spot and flailing, who knows what was spewing out of my mouth. The spider dropped on the floor and the lady squished it, "oh, it wasn't that big", yes, yes it was. The scrunch smear on the floor was about three inches long by an inch wide there were legs scattered on the floor. "Just look at the smear!" I said. WB thought it was the most hilarious thing. She knows that I am terrified of spiders, when we went up to Departure Lake, her outhouse was ridden with them, I carried a can of Raid every time I had to squeeze my lemon. So, we hauled her chunky baby and stroller back down the stairs and had lunch at the Rubber Boot. We power walked the dogs, later on in the evening. Today I cut the grass at the one rental and at my house trying to avoid hitting all the old people with rocks and debris as they strolled past with their walkers. Some of them just stood and stared so I had to lift my blade and wait for the geriatrics to move. What is so interesting about someone riding a lawn tractor? I stared back at them, it was like an old fashioned standoff. LOL.

You know you are musically inept when you can't keep the beat, have no rhythm, and have to clip an electronic metronome on your collar. Then you read the instructions on the metronome, and you might as well be reading martian. Honestly, I just can't play music. There are so many campers across the street right now. I think it is a jamboree, I was talking with the people from the music store in town, where I bought my retarded metronome, and they said they are taking a bunch of instruments over.

Today, Gibbles, Tibbles and I have to go to the dentist and get our Chiclets cleaned. I don't think Addled's muslix and puffed wheat was the best decision, my floss has gone missing. The fire here is roaring, it is just so nasty out. As I was sitting in the tub, I thought I heard the oil truck go by (living here, you kind of get to know trucks by their sound). So, dripping, I peeked out the window, and yes, it drove by. My towel yanked from the hook, dropped my legs into the awaiting long johns, I squeezed into my clothes and ran outside to check the oil level. Nope, not a change. At least, with the rain, the Rose of Sharron's that I replanted are getting a good drink. This weekend is the Annual Barn Bash across the road. The grounds are filling up with campers and RV's. I put the BBQ on lock down when we purchased it, plus it is beside the dog run, so if any rogue campers wander into my yard, they will be faced with a thick rusty chain and barking dogs. Later: No cavities, neither I nor the kidlets had any fillings to get filled. The usual. . ."you are brushing too hard", but other than that, my pegs are in good repair. I am supposed to stop putting my front and lower teeth together and grinding when I see something cute (it could be the sight of a nose (human or dog), WB's baby, baby noses, or even GaryM may appreciate this one~~~baby toes). I told the dentist I thought I was causing little cracks in my front teeth, by doing it. She thought it was the funniest thing in the world. "Well, I have three cute dogs, and I can't stop doing it". "Well, you should make an effort to stop, although there are no cracks, you could cause them". Gibbles has slacked off though, she has plaque attack, and has not been looking after her braces. I told the hygienist to scare her, with orthodontic horror stories. As we drove home I did some tongue clicking guttural songs. Gibbles became enraged, Tibbles told me I was making her sick. As I pulled the truck up to the school, and the kids jumped out, Tibbles went one way, and Gibbles the other way. As I passed Gibbles leaving, I beeped the horn twice for good measure. The look on her face was absolute horror and embarrassment. It was a beautiful sight.

HEROES UNITE: The Ultimate 80's Tribute

The Plastic Man TV cartoon intro (1979)

Adam never believed me about Plastic Man. Ha! It was not a figment of my vivid childhood imagination or creosote fumes.

Cabana Chronicles

We were up at the cottage for the long weekend. On Saturday (my regular garage sale day), my father, decided early in the morning that the cabana MUST be put up. I think, in retrospect, he did not want me to find a double mantle Coleman lantern. You do not want to mess with my father when he has a mission. It is evident when my father has a "project" in mind because his eyes become the size of gobstoppers. Remember the father in a Christmas Story? Every curse word known to man, even ones that could be concocted were used. I made my self the sacrificial lamb. Through the windows of the cottage I mouthed to others. . ."Leave. . .leave while you still can", to those that were still eating breakfast. Now, this "cabana" sits on the front deck of the cottage. This is the type of cabana that one is supposed to be able to put up by tourists for a day at the beach, for a goat roast (lol), but my father has improvised, so it stands attached to the main cottage during the summer months. It keeps the sun out of the cottage in the summer, otherwise, inside would be very hot. Regardless, this thing was supposed to be easy to put up. It wasn't. "Dad why couldn't you get one of those senior citizen retractable awnings?" "SNOW LOAD, DROPPING ICE, CAN'T DO IT, GET THE RED ROBBY". " Ummm Dad. . ." "DO YOU EVER STOP TALKING?" This cabana banana was such a pain in the ass to put up, I think we were both on the verge of tears. "I NEED MORE HANDS". Thank god he does not have four, he would be akin to the Terminator, or in his case the Projectinator. As my brother so wisely said, he should go on Survivor, he would have a whole city built, with flushing toilets and a factory that made bumwaddo. Memories of childhood flooded through my brain "Lisa. . .I have a project for you, paint the garage with creosote". I only went to a few garage sales, and did not buy a thing. What I did find was an ancient serpentine dresser or buffet (not sure until I put it back together), not in the best shape, some veneer was falling off, and the original finish had been stripped. Part of it was lying in a stream amongst the marsh marigold. I asked Addled to go to the cottage that it sat in front of and ask them if it was free. It was, so we gathered the the main dresser, and then the bits from the top, there were some corbel type pieces and frame that were in the stream. My hope is to use this for my bathroom vanity. I think it will be painted. Paint covers a multitude of sins. I may just use milk paint, and then get a top to overlay on it. Who knows, right now it is sitting in the back of my truck still, as there is no place to put it inside. The weekend was nice, although, cold and wet. We tried to sneak the dogs down to the beach, but there was a windstorm and the sand was flying through the air even before we got to Lakeshore. On Sunday, Addled went four wheeling, returned and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. Dad was coddling Addled by putting lubricating drops into Addled's eyes, as my honey bunny had grit and grime in his little peepers. Had a good walk with Onyx and Blaster through Walker's Woods with my Dad. More on this later. . . actually I may have to take the post down, Dad wouldn't talk to me for a month after mentioning he talks through his mustache. Dad, it's all written in love, really. Heehehe.

I woke up this morning, grabbed a coffee, did the usual routine. As I passed the one mirror downstairs, I realized I looked like a Fraggle. My hair was everywhere. (WB called and want's to go for coffee at 9, ugggh, need to do damage control with my doo). It's funny, because you get to a point in a marriage, and everything is accepted. Using a mud mask (spot specific), and bedhead, is a common thing now. When did this change? When did that comfort level kick in? Addled is really funny in the morning (when I see him). He gets puffed, squinty eyes, pillow wrinkles on the cheeks, and his fingers swell up like sausages. He also has this habit of tucking his shirt into his pyjama pants. When he had hair, it would stick up all over the place. Those were cute times.

Boni

Oh my, I woke up this morning, got the kids to eat at least something, made their lunches, let the dogs out, fed the dogs, the usual dramas ensued, except their was an added bonus (en francais~~BONI). Onyx, at five and a half months has absolutely grossed out the girls by starting to hump the floors. He gets a distant look in his eyes and then wind him up and away he goes. Tibbles was absolutely horrified. We have dealt with the red rockets, lipsticks, but this has gone too far. A vet has told me not to neuter until one year of age, due to recent data pointing to more hip displasia, and long bone growth. The dog is not going to have any hips (or rear end) left at this point if I wait a year to get him neutered. We didn't partake of the community supper last night. I just couldn't do it this year, plus, Addled gets home just around the time the chew fest ends, so, we would just get the remnants. For ten bucks a head, it was not worth eating the gristley ends of roast beef, and mayo with a bit of cabbage. (Really it is a good dinner, but, there is the grad one coming up and I am saving myself for it). http://www.cbc.ca/canada/new-brunswick/story/2008/05/14/nb-skateboarder.html?ref=rss&loomia_si=t0:a16:g4:r4:c0 Now here's a story of a guy, who was fined for skateboarding on the street, refused to pay his fines, and now is in jail. Skateboarders are great, I really like them. Great way to travel if you are not of the uncoordinated type. Yet, I do not think skateboarding on the streets is a safe way to travel, just as I do not think bicycle riding on busy streets is a safe way to travel. (Here's a hypocritical point, I have seen my daughter Tibbles with a rope on her bike pulling Gibbles to school, they are both wearing helmets, but although I have lectured on safety, I turn a blind eye. It looks quite funny really ~~~I think they got the idea from Napoleon Dynamite only Kip was wearing rollerblades). If a skate boarder hits a patch of grit and gravel, it is so easy to fall off, and if you are on the street you can end up as a crumpled mess underneath a bus or car. Really, their should be lanes for bicycles and alternate methods of travel. I mean lanes EVERYWHERE, it's probably not in the budgets for municipalities, but, it would save a lot of consternation for drivers and those that are going green with their methods of transportation. I used to have to bike from Oxford and Hyde Park all the way to Fanshawe College. I would be biking and crying, wailing with my mouth open. You were not allowed to ride on the sidewalk so you had to be out in traffic. This was about ten or eleven years ago, and I have not sat on another bicycle since. It was absolutely terrifying. The cars were inches away, some would get way too close, you had to watch out for gravel and potholes, and sewer grates. Speaking of which, HD is going into a triathalon soon. She mentioned to me that if you are in a long bicycle ride, like the Tour de France http://www.letour.fr/indexus.html , you do not have bathroom breaks, you just go as you pedal. That would really make one have second thoughts on tailgating during the race.

Why?

Here I am sitting up into the weeeeeee hours of the night, doing a very, very dirty deed. Eating rice crackers with cream cheese smothered in red pepper jelly. Did I mention I am lactose intolerant? Ya, here's to self destruction. It's all WB's fault, this past weekend we went out and had dip and crackers at HD's and WB presented this odd combination. My goodness, what a lovely medley.

Why, when you go to a restaurant they charge you up to two dollars more for a Caesar salad, than their regular garden salad? It looks like the garden salad takes a lot more work to prepare, all the cutting and chopping and tossing involved. I just do not understand why, especially when you know that the croutons they are using are of the run of the mill variety, and the bacon bits are simulated. So, tomorrow is the Day I Dread The Most All Year. . .the Community Supper, Mass Mastication, Gob smackers, Lip Loungers, just packed full of open mouth chew people. (Okay to be kind, it is probably just my ears being sensitive after having to perform lunchroom duties for the developmentally challenged back in the day). Also, at large places of Alimentary Action, I cannot stand the farty smell. It's not necessarily people farting, but just the smell of multiple dinners. I had the choice between donating ten pounds of peeled potatoes (as if*), or two cabbages and a litre of Mayo (gag). I took the cabbage route. See, even when I have begged and pleaded with the community supper leaders (last year for a grad dinner) to switch to all natural, organic, just add a bit of milk and water and stir potatoes, they get their feathers ruffled. At Costco you can get 180 servings of Natural Mash for 8.99 or so. They are damn good potatoes. When I mentioned this the Community Supper People they looked like they were going to faint, so I declined on peeling potatoes and sending them. When I went to the store in town, they only had cabbages the size of my pug's head, which is pretty darn puny, and flat, so I bought three, and the god awful litre of mayo, and dropped it off at the place where my pink jacket was held hostage for almost a year. Unfortunately, I forgot my big yellow note stating that this was what I was supposed to bring. So as not to get the Community Supper leaders in a state of frenzy over the unmarked three cabbages as opposed to deux, I emailed the principal with where I left the cabbages, how many and that the mayo was there as well. As I left my cabbages and creamy goodness at the coat held hostage site, http://urbanitch.blogspot.com/search?q=pink+jacket I didn't even order a coffee. I don't feel the least bit guilty. *I hate peeling potatoes, not because I am lazy, the juice irritates my skin. Plus, my idea with the Natural Mash for fundraisers, is much cheaper in the long run than actually having to clean, peel, boil, mash, season tubers in the long run.

Delerium - Aria

"Delerium video of the song Aria sung in 'Middle-English' language. Vocals by Mediaeval Baebes." The Mediaeval Baebes rock.

Just The Panacea We Were All Awaiting. . .

Best Movie EVER

Lucky!!! Addled took me out to dinner with the kids this evening. This was the best Mother's Day ever. Nice cute cards from the kidlets, two dozen beautiful roses, and this song from Addled. Always and forever. . .

Breast feeding her 5 and 7 year olds

It is time to stop breast feeding when your nipple is stretched halfway across a room during a hissy fit.

It's Mother's Day. My email and Internet is back up and running, somebody in the county cut a fibre optic line, and hence, no email, or anything for a while. I wasn't going to post about the baby number 18 that is going to be born on New Years, to the infamous Duggar family. Whether or not it is a boy, or a girl, Jingles, Jo Jo, Jube Jube, Jazzzam, Jo Mama, Jizzy, would make fine names. Now, after having time to pontificate this announcement, I realize there is a big and terrible dualism. If it was a family, that happened to be on welfare who had eighteen kids, many people would be outraged. "They are draining precious resources". "Taking away needed tax dollars". . . the putrid "welfare rant". If it was a family with eighteen children, who came over from another country, who also happened to be receiving state funding, because they were running from persecution, some of the public would also be in an uproar. The immigrant rant, that some think is okay. But since this is a family, who is not openly declaring any state aid, we are not supposed to comment about them, unless it is positive. They do receive tax breaks, as rumour has it, they have their own church within the house, and Jim Bob is supposedly the minister . . .hence tax write offs. TLC has obviously helped them. It's not to be written about negatively, because they are right wing religious, and therefore untouchable. We are not supposed to cringe at their lifestyle, unless you are a certain type of militant lesbian (anti-breeder, anti heterosexual type, not saying all lesbians are this way, but on certain websites this view goes unchallenged, encouraged and applauded). For the record, I am very pro gay, and it is not my intention to pigeon hole all lesbians into that mindset. Pro Choice, also means the right to procreation, and I was told that by de facto that makes Mrs. Duggar a feminist in her own right. There is also a belief that a woman might "enjoy pregnancy and breastfeeding", so the more you have the more to enjoy. The mother has been told she is "high risk" for future pregnancies and is putting her life in danger. Chromosomes are getting a little sticky at Michelle's age. Yet, Jim Bob still is on the prowl. Now, what would happen if Mrs. Duggar died (god forbid) during childbirth? What if the baby is born with an issue? I suppose, the girls in the family, with all their experience would step up to the plate and raise the family, as they do anyway, because it is their "jurisdiction". Even as a very liberal person, I cannot endorse this televised lifestyle (not that anyone is asking me). Yes, many families have lots of kids, but, they are not running to the networks to shine in the public spotlight and get endorsements. We have a huge Mennonite population in this area, I do not see them lining up to have their own television slot on TVO, nor the family of seven living up the road, nor even the single mom of five, who has such difficulty caring for her children, that they are given to the grandparents to look after, and she still keeps having kids. . . a friend who came from a family of fourteen, his family never, ever wanted the spotlight on their dynamics. I have another friend from a family of ten. I have noticed that the Polygamist family (two wives, a third was pending, and after giving much financial support, was booted from the family), and the Wiccan family have not been seen on TLC for some time. I would love to see a show about a gay couple who adopts multiple children (too controversial for the right wings, or the homophobes), or a childless couple who remains so by choice and instead breeds goats to fill the void (too boring and upsetting to those that like to have kids), maybe even a reality show based on Jamie Lynn Spears teenage pregnancy (too influential supposedly on tweens). I would love to see a television show of a super right wing Pro Life family, who pickets at abortion clinics, step up and adopt a baby that was slated for abortion, or actually sponsor a teenage mother who is faced with abortion. I wonder how that would go over? It wouldn't, 'cause it ain't considered cute y'all. You know, maybe if the Duggar's went Green it would be more palatable. If someone was able to set them up with their own wind farm, geothermal heating, solar panels and rain barrels, it would be appreciated. Even compost-able diapers would be a blessing. Hopefully they are using Pampers, because, thanks to Salma Hayek, each package bought, donates one vaccine of Tetanus for a needy child, heck that family could help immunize an nation. ***** by the website, they have used 90,000 diapers so far, I did not notice if they were cloth or store bought.

Happy Anniversary Bum and Clad

Ahhh, there is nothing like young love. Here are my parents circa 1969, full of glee (before they had Rutiger and I). Thirty nine years together and still enjoying their honeymoon! I had to slip that post wedding pic of Dad in. He started growing his beard on the honeymoon, and we have only seen his upper lip once shaven since then.

WB and I went out yesterday. I bought a "wardrobe", one of those thirty dollar things that suffice for lack of closet space. It took me a whole hour to put the contraption together, and after getting the nose sweats, it was finally erected. I thought it would be easy as pie, but of course I was in a hurry and just could not get all the little parts lined up. Then problem became, where to put it? I couldn't move the 1970's personal sauna (it's full of high heels that I cannot wear), I couldn't move the dressers, I couldn't move the sea chests, my bedroom is FULL. Addled came home to a house that looked like a bomb hit it. I hung up his extensive collection of retro inspired cowboy shirts and vacuumed and called it a day. While WB and I were at Wallymart, I noticed a cart that had been deserted, I looked around for an owner but was unable to find one, so I took all the dinky cars out and placed the bundle of toys and stuff on an empty shelf in the store. After a few minutes, WB said "Lisa, I think that is the owner". . . WB ran away swiftly, baby in tow. So there I was, with a potentially stolen cart, and not knowing what to do. The cart was now full of pig ear strips, closet organizer, wooden hangers and natural cleaners (I ran out of Tea Tree Oil, and I figured I would try the Citrus Sage blend out). WB had deserted me! Full of paranoia I walked the aisles trying to find her, while thinking, what if the prior cart owner was of the violent type and would I feel a sudden cuff to the back of my head? There might be a need for back up. I found WB in the juice box aisle, and then she thought she saw the owners again. She watched where they went, and then with a sigh of relief said "they didn't go down the car aisle. . .they just must have been confused shoppers." Anyhow, today, I cut three property's worth of grass (I am posting this post later in the day), took the dogs out separately for uphill fetch with my dear tenant / neighbour. She is such a sweety. May is in full swing. Flowers are popping, and things are getting very green and lush.

I replanted all the Rose of Sharron, two really odd looking rose bushes (they have protuberances like scrubbing pads on them), and another wacky vine along the sides of the dog run. These plantings, along with the Engleman's Ivy, should help with concealing the run, and the passersby. There were so many black flies out, I ate at least three, had two in my eye (one underneath my contact), and some down the back of my pants, in the ole coin slot. It will be nice when it warms up and the black flies die off and we are plagued by mosquitoes. (Actually I kind of felt like Survivor Man, eating insects. . . .hey, did you know he has a band?) I also found out that ALL Nascar drivers wear diapers. From a six year old. Everyone knew that except for me. Not that I watch Nascar. . .but I found it very interesting. Especially since an old friend loves Nascar drivers, she finds them sexy, now is that with the diapers or sans diapers?) I didn't list anything on line. Yesterday, it pissed down rain. When it came time for the kids to come home, Tibbles rushed inside the house and yelled "WHY DIDN'T YOU PICK US UP?!", after replying that she has a four minute walk home, and skin doesn't automatically slide off your bones during a rain episode, she pulled the "bad parent" card. "ALL THE MOTHERS PICKED UP THEIR KIDS, WE WERE THE ONLY ONES THAT HAD TO WALK". I think children are too coddled. Really, rain will not hurt them, snow will not cause them harm. If there was a tornado, I might consider picking them up. It's not like they live on Glebe Street in London, where all the crack heads used to hang out. We do have our weirdos, but after teaching my children various self defense techniques, I feel pretty confident that they could handle perverts. (Scream, Run, if all else fails, kick them in the package and jump on their foot). When I used to walk to the school to meet them and drop them off, I noticed that so many parents who live even closer than we do, drive their kids. The one family, doesn't even belt the kids in, and you can see in the back of their vehicle, four of them doing gymnastics on their two minute drive to school. Another family, with the same walking distance as us, drive their kids as well, everyday, and are perpetually late. It would be more apropos, and more environmentally friendly if they just let the little winkies walk, quicker as well. You wouldn't have to try and find a parking spot, or dodge rambunctious children with nits. I think that parents who force their kids to walk should be entitled to a carbon credit. I do not know what I would do with the carbon credit, it's not like it could be put in a side pocket, but it would be an idea.

Monday, the kids, Addled and I went out for lunch, both kids ordered the same thing, and came down with a touch of food poisoning. Gibbles went to school this morning. Tibbles bounced back quickly. Last night was Wookie's training. It went relatively well, considering she is too bloody happy, and wants to kiss everyone she meets, and sniff every dogs bum. It was like a party. I came home with yet another new type of head halter New Trix, it looks like a bondage outfit, but it is the cadillac of training collars. You have to be a Rhodes Scholar to figure it out though. Also came home with two balls that you stuff with their kibble, and it gives you a break, as well as gives the dog a job. They have to work for their kibble. Now, I am starting clicker training. God help me if I am around a bunch of old people with floppy dentures, the dogs will go nuts. It is auction listing day, so once I get the house in order, replant some more Rose of Sharron, and have a bath, I am going to dig through my hoard, and post some stuff. Nothing at the moment is popping out for me, so I will have to ponder what I will sell.

Project Follicle

It's finished. . . HD waxed the whole shebang off my legs with great precision and passion. I took pictures of the ordeal, but will not post them. I did send them to my parents, and I think my father needs a drink. We hit a deer last night on the way home from Addled's parents. I made Adam stop turn around and we found the poor deer, it had made it into the ditch. I called 911, to alert them to the dying animal. They came and after two blasts of a shotgun, the deer died. The poor thing was in agony. I asked if there were any animal rehabilitation places around. . .nope. What a shame. Now, the van's front bumper is hanging off, an electrical harness, the passenger side wheel is making an funky sound, and all the warning lights are on. It could be drivable, but I don't think it's a good idea. I let insurance know about the incident. We were very lucky, we could have had hooves and antlers protruding into our faces. It was a doe, so there were no antlers involved. I am craving venison.

It has been a bitter sweet, sugar and salt day. Grandma died at eight this morning, surrounded by her son, daughter and husband. She was ninety years old. If there was ever a way to leave the constraints of the physical body, this was the perfect goodbye, being surrounded with love, of those closest to you. Addled is taking it hard, as is Tibbles, and Gibbles is dealing with it in her own unique way. There are many ways to grieve, and everyone has their own methods. We do not cry for the dead, but we cry for ourselves, because it is our loss, and we miss them. We miss the physicality of them, their warmth, and their presence. They, themselves have been set free, out of the chrysalis of this life, and into a new one. I like the certain native views of death, that you are not dead until people do not mention your name anymore. You live on through the memories people have of you, and the stories are etched in memory and passed down to the next generation. (Now someone correct me if I am wrong with this, I did on occasion fall asleep during Native Issues classes at Fanshawe, not because I was bored, just because I was prone to that). I will write more about Grandma soon. I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her. She was the most gentle, loving soul. . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Big space here, because the writing below has absolutely nothing to do with the above. Yet, I must add it. I was given this link by Addled's work buddy, thanks Ian! Have fun boys and girls! Gillette - Beard-o-matic http://www.facebook.com/share_redirect.php?h=e793af70629a2927bbc67eeb0fdc6326&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.gillettefusion.ca%2Fen_ca%2Fbeardomatic%2F&sid=29820094368 Also a picture from an IKEA catalogue, that probably should have been looked at a little harder prior to print. It's kind of like, Where's Waldo, but Where's the Rocket. Absolutely terrible.

Wintersleep - Weighty Ghost