Royal Schmoz...

I'm convinced that my DVD player is possessed.  

All I wanted to do was record the royal wedding for a little girl who is crazy about princesses. This modern day love story seems to be plucked right out of the pages of her favourite fairytales. For her to watch the pomp and ceremony of a real royal wedding would put her over the moon.

And I could do that if only this bloody DVD recorder would do what I want it to. Really. How hard can it be to use timer record on this machine. My first attempt fails--miserably. Set it to record four hours and captured a grand total of zero seconds! So I try again to catch one of the replays. Didn't work...are you kidding me?! 

Finally I'm set to give up...maybe she won't be that disappointed, I console myself. I can live with being the cause of the disappointment for her. Surely the sting of the sadness in her eyes won't burn for long. Can't give up...so end up recording it while I watch it again. Whew! 

Thanks, Wills and Kate for helping me realize my inability with gadgets of all kinds. Oh, and congratulations on your wedding! 

Gotta Watch!

Royal Wedding.....gotta get to bed so I can get up to watch it! Or just pull an all-nighter! Or just wait for the replays. British ancestery makes me do it. It really isn't my fault.

I feel compelled to watch it because I made my Grandma get up with me (at 4 am) and watch Diana's wedding to Charles--and spent the whole lazy day on the couch watching it over and over...

Now that's time well wasted. Or just wasted all together! 

I will record it for a little girl I know who truly believes in princesses and asked if she could watch it with me. Who am I to refuse?

Cheerio!

Lounging Eating BonBons



image source: 123rf.com



Today I had opportunity to watch daytime TV. No I mean grown up daytime TV-- that isn't a cartoon (and perfect) mother bear that makes me question my ability as a parent. You know, laying on the couch eating bonbons, like a real writer!  I learned something.

We have 160 channels of nothing to watch. Nothing. We pay handsomely for the right to watch 160 channels of nothing. I am an empty shell with dashed dreams of wasting time well. Sigh!

I sit down with a hot cuppa and anticipate some great adult entertainment...er...that sounds wrong....I mean grown up television shows.  Click, click, click. Wedding story....been there, done my own, don't care about yours. Click, click, click. Baby story...I know how that ends!  Click, click, click..Mom Show--ummm, isn't this my daily life that I suddenly have a reprieve from? Click, click, click.... cooking...pause--YUMMY! No, no! That will just make me hungry leading to more work for me when I try to make that later. Next...next....next. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing

Oh wait, what is this? I'm smiling. I'm not changing the channel. It's got all the vices and drama of the modern world. Still its comical...and familiar. At long last I've found something to watch and use up my work time! And its age appropriate! Score!



You can never go wrong watching the Flintstones. YABADABADOO!



image source: checkdemo.info







Faux Fashionista

Let's be clear. I am not a fashionista. I like clothes that look good. I have favourites and fake it. I do not follow trends or really care about them. Jeanne Beker I am not.

But I found a new trend in T-shirt fashion, straight from Paris. At first I thought "sounds cute". And I do like T-shirts. And if they are from Paris, then surely they would be pretty cool.

What this company has done is put a paper doll-like doll on the front of the Tee. Remeber those paper dolls you got to dress as a kid? Yeah, those...So you can dress the little doll and wear the shirt. Oh, and your little girl can too. Yep, now your sweet little mini-me fashionista can dress the doll and herself. (Good luck ever getting to school on time!)

Truly, check it out at lottydotty.com  I think their intention is good and the doll's undergarments are age appropriate as is the clothing (good job for recognizing little girls aren't just miniture women!)

The T-shirt is $75 for women and $50 for children. The dresses for the dolls are $15- 45, but are mini designer deals with crystal bling coming soon. So the doll is better dressed than you after $100!

I know what you're thinking: "You are just miffed that you can't spend (read: justify) $75 for a T-shirt." Ummm...no. Ok, maybe a little. But here's how I see it:

For my investment I get to relive playing with paper dolls. Let me remember...their arms, legs or the stupid clothing tabs all ripped off. Perfect! Another toy that doesn't work right and makes me upset (insert full on tantrum here)! Clearly an early indicator that fashion wouldn't be my thing.

Plus, I get to dress me (which some days is a miracle itself) and now I'm responsible for dressing a doll on my chest that is far more high maintenance than me with her froo froo designer clothes and bling. Even the doll would think its superior...Fabulous! Added bonus is I drop in rank behind my family AND the inanimate doll on my T-shirt. Don't even get me started on the laundry--those little designer numbers aren't wash and wear and spaghetti sauce stains!

Interactive shirt. Ok, this part is what seemed cute at first. I mean really, what could go wrong with that? But, isn't all clothing interactive? Put it on, take it off; interactive.

Or I put it on and my husband takes it off. So he can undress the doll now, too. Nothing wrong there, until the doll becomes the perfect doll because she never complains about his dirty socks on the floor and hair in the bathroom sink.  Home-wrecking, high maintenance doll! Before long she will be answering for me, making excuses for my behaviour in public. Wait....maybe I could blame her for things...yeah, that might work: "The doll made me do it."

And truly, aren't all women looking for another reason to have someone pulling on their clothes--you know your daughter will want to fix your doll's look all the time! Yup, I think they've nailed it! 

I can save myself $100, though. I'm going to duct tape a dollar store pixie doll to my Tee. Just sayin'! It's kind of the same, no?

If you think I just don't get it, go back to the beginning.

Popcorn!

Nothing says movie night like a big bowl of popcorn. Except maybe chocolate with popcorn. Salty, buttery and crunchy. And the smell of it cooking. Nothing gets saliva flowing faster than the smell of popcorn popping. It doesn't matter if you've just eaten an entire buffet. The small makes you want some. And you can eat it absently until you are about to burst.

The advantage of movie night at home is that the smell is in your house. It's there throughout the movie. It's there to lull you off to dreamy slumber with images of fluffly, cloudy popcorn people and scenes. As you drift off to popcorn dreamland with an over-full belly, you smile contentedly---all happy, happy.

Minutes and hours pass and you have the most animated dreams about popcorn. Suddenly, the happy scenes turn into popcorn monsters chasing you around trying to cram husks between your teeth.

You bolt awake just as they are about to catch you. Your heavy breathing subsides and you giggle to yourself as you realize you are safe in your own bed.

But you sense you are not alone. There is something else in the house with you--what is it? Your heart races as you wrack your brain to identify it. You sense immediately that it just doesn't belong. Should you get up? Reluctantly you do.

Then you are reminded of why movie night at home is so great. The smell of popcorn. It's there through the movie and when you drift off into slumberland....

And it's still there in the morning and even a few days later. It just lingers. Yep. That's the beauty of the smell of popcorn.  At least that's how it goes at my house. Seriously.

It Could Happen...

Computers make my head hurt. Technology in general makes my head hurt. Smart phones, apps, latest and greatest whitchamacallit. I can't keep up.

Smart technology--hmmm. I think my computer and cell phone are smarter than me. I hear them laughing at me. It's cleverly disguised as a ring tone or a nice little series of beeps, but I know better.

I'm also certain they talk to each other. They have their cyber hen-parties online after we're all asleep. I can hear it now; the mocking, the ridicule.

"Hey, did you see her face when I went totally blue!? (insert evil belly laugh here). Wait till she can't find all her files that I moved! The best is when the little guy gets to play and I make the cursor unresponsive--she near flips out! (insert another evil belly laugh here) This is the best!"

It could happen, you know....

I Am A Rock Star

No really, I am.

At least in my own mind. And in my car when I'm alone. I'm the person grooving to music at the red light. You've likely laughed at me in your mirror. And I likely didn't care.

I crank up my favourite songs and escape. For that 3.5 minutes I can be somewhere else--not getting groceries or doing school pick ups or other boring everyday stuff. It's a mini vacation in the minivan! (which I totally deny having!)  
Bonus! It doesn't matter if I stink because its too loud to hear myself.  I'm sure I sound just like Ozzy--wait, that might not be good. Regardless, I just have fun with it. The louder the music, the louder I sing, the better the trip. Don't pretend you don't do this. You know you do.

And every once in a while, I get front row parking---just like the rock star I am!

Positively Giddy

The writing process can be tough. You create something and send it off, hoping it turns out great. When that happens, I still get positively giddy.

Today was one of those days. Very excited to preview an article (It's Cool Outside) that I wrote for Alberta Conservation's Discovery Guide. It comes out early May ( http://www.ab-conservation.com/). It looks amazing. The illustrator did a great job!

It will be on their website in May so you can see it then. Don't worry, I'll link to it when it does so you won't forget!

In the meantime, get out and enjoy the outdoors! This is the best time--its muddy and wet and you can get dirty! Its really an invitation to be a kid again! Go on....you know you want to jump in that mud puddle!

Chocolate Chips Solve Problems

Lots of snow. Everywhere. Got up anyway---kids didn't get the memo about waiting for spring to really get here.

The snow is wet and heavy. Realized I should work out more. Or not. Maybe I should just eat more chocolate chips and forget about the snow. That's a plan I can get behind!

Chocolate chips solve problems. They help you escape so you don't even know you have problems anymore. I keep them in the freezer to keep me from eating too many. It doesn't work.

Any situation can be helped by a handful of chocolate chips. I know this to be fact and I am not alone. There are closet chocolate chip eaters walking among us...you know who you are.

Feeling bad/sad/mad? Eat some chocolate chips; feel better. Happy? Eat some chocolate chips; feel happier. See? It really works.

Until the chocolate chips run out.  Then its just dealing with wet, heavy snow.

Awww.....C'Mon!!!

It's cold. Again. Heavy snowfall warning for tonight. Seriously?!? We've had a lot of snow this year.

Not liking the weather forecasters--at all.

Going to bed. Not getting up again until spring is actually here....really, I mean it.

So it begins...

Today I jump in with both feet. I start my blog. Some people have been nudging (pushing?) me about it for a while, but I lean toward stubborn and tend to dig in when pushed. So this took way longer than it needed to. To all of them I ask: Are you happy now? 

I have to say I am technically adverse. I still think a typewriter sounds cool. Way cooler than a laptop. Click, click, click..ding...ziiiiip! (Look it up if you don't know what that means!) I love the feel and smell of books, especially old books--not to be mistaken for that 'old people who never open a window house smell'. And I love to tell stories.

For a long time other people have known I am a writer. My family did. My friends did. My high school English teacher did. My University professor who became a mentor did.  Actually, everyone knew. I denied it.

Writers had to wear awful smoking jackets with corduroy elbow patches, right? Writers had to talk in that Thurston Howell the Third nasal tone, right? There was no way that was me.

I know one thing for certain....if you are meant to do something, it will haunt you, hunt you down and make you miserable until you finally just admit it, accept it and do it. Now I admit it. I am a writer. I quietly have been professionally for several years. I love it. This is my world. Welcome to it!