So I had this dream last night about Jenn Harvey. In the dream we went to see the musical Wicked. But when we got there, the person who was going to play the wicked witch of the west hadn’t shown up. So the producer stood up and asked if anyone in the audience knew the role by heart and could step in. So Jenn raised her hand and then ended up starring in the musical. And damn, she was good! I saw the whole play starring Jenn Harvey in my dream. And then at the end they gave her a cheque for less than 1 dollar because they charged her rental fees for wearing the costumes.

Weird.

 

And then I had another dream that I was writing a test about food addiction and one of the questions was “Is it possible to become addicted to the way a food sounds when you eat it?”

 

I think yes.

 

On another note, we booked the babies in for spaying next Thursday. Sigh. I’m going to be a mess. I know they will be fine but as a mommy, I worry. Plus so many people keep telling me horror stories of how they know someone whose sister’s dog died while under anaesthetic. Thanks. That’s exactly what I need to hear. But I’m sure Annabelle and the Peach will pull through with flying colours. And Jeff and I have taken to getting them all riled up by asking them "Who wants a hysterecomy?" in the same tone of voice used for asking "Who wants breakfast?" or "Who wants a cookie?". Apparently they are keen on the idea! But they will have to wear those lampshade things for a while. Poor monkeys.

Okay Okay OKAY! So I haven’t updated my blog in a very long time.

What of it? Where’s YOUR blog? And when is the last time you put up something new?

Huh? Take THAT!

 

Just teasin’. For those of you that check the blog on a regular basis (mom and dad, this means you!) I apologize. I’ll try to keep on top of it.

 

So I’d like to start this entry with the retelling of a great story called “The Easter Miracle”. My friend Scott, who lives in my building, was at his girlfriend’s parents’ place for Easter dinner a few weeks back when the sacred event took place. I swear this really happened to him!

 

So the family are seated at the dinner table making chit chat and passing the various dishes around the table when suddenly the person passing the dish containing the beets manages to send it flying! So Scott, trying to save the beets and the carpet, miraculously catches the beet dish but manages to get several drops of beet juice on his new white shirt.

 

Sigh…poor white shirt.

 

He figured the shirt was a goner. But then, the girlfriend’s mom (Mrs. Mackintosh) brings out the new Tide Pen and POOF – the beet juice (BEET JUICE I TELL YOU) disappeared before his very eyes.

 

And this, my friends, was the Easter Miracle.

 

I bought the tide pen.

So I can now add Umbrellas to the list of random things my pups are afraid of. (The list also includes hair dryers and Lake Ontario). This morning Jeff took Annabelle out for her morning business but she wouldn’t go because it was raining really hard and she didn’t want to get wet. So I suggested that he take her back outside but bring an umbrella so he could shield her from the torrential downpour.

Seems logical, no? But when he got downstairs and opened the umbrella Annabelle FREAKED and ran away! Luckily Jeff caught up with her, but the poor pooch wouldn’t go near him while he was holding the menacing weapon of mass destruction. Finally she was coaxed back in and Jeff left the umbrella in the hall outside the apartment.

So an hour later after she was fed, I took her out again and when she got out into the hall she was shocked to see the offending item and ran back inside to cower in the corner! I took the umbrella (which was open so that it could dry) and closed it up but still had one heck of a time luring her out. Good thing her love of food outweighs her fear of umbrellas! But when it was time to come back in she again cowered in the hall in fear. I finally got her inside using the closed-hand “I have a cookie for you” fake out.

My faithful watchdog is one big chicken.

 

So I meant to write this blog entry forever ago but my life got in the way. When Jeff was away in Montreal on business I took it upon myself to rent movies that he would most certainly not enjoy. (See how much I love you honey?) Unfortunately, I tend towards dramas and tearjerkers which aren’t the best option when you are watching movies alone and missing your man. So I rented Sylvia which is a biopic of Sylvia Plath’s short and miserable life. And I had forgotten how obsessed I was with her and her poetry in high school. Ah the angst of teenaged girls. I definitely recommend the movie but perhaps one should not watch it alone while being heartsick for your absentee spouse. I think The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants or Annie would have been the better choice. But the point of my ramble here is that Gwyneth Paltrow did a phenomenal job of playing the clinically depressed poet/mother/wife. And the whole movie was so melancholy (complete with incessant rain and fog, drab clothing and dingy living conditions) that when she finally succeeded in killing herself, I was actually relieved if not happy. The only colour in this movie is the red cloth that covers Sylvia’s casket when they carry it out of her apartment. And the other thing that I was thinking about is that had she only had access to the medications we have now (because her depression was so obviously chemical if you ask me) then she could have died an old granny in her bed instead of at the age of 30 with her head in the oven. Okay so it wasn't IN the oven but she killed herself by inhaling the gas from her oven. But then Maureen pointed out that Ms. Plath probably would not have been the brilliant poet that she was had she been treated for her depression. Sigh. Which begs the question, does the artist need to be tortured to create art? I’ll leave that one with you.

And on a serious note, Jeff and I watched In the Name of the Father last night. If you haven't seen this movie, go and rent it. It's one of the most powerful, heart-wrenching stories you'll ever hear. I cried more than I do at that Tim Horton's commercial with the Asian guy and his Dad at the hockey rink. And then I got all angry at the British cuz they have such a sordid history of imposing their will on people. Much like our neighbours to the south. I realize there are two sides to every story and I haven't done very much reading on the subject so don't get your knickers twisted if you disagree. My knowledge of English bullying is solely based on movies like this one and Braveheart. But my point here is go and see this movie. Seriously. Good night. (Hi Mom and Dad! I miss you!)

Hello dear friends,

I thought of another funny tidbit to add to my blog o' humour. I've had this conversation a few times over the last few weeks because my puppies, the lovely Annabelle and Peaches, are both stinky sleep farters. They don't offer any apologies and seem completely comfortable with their affliction. But the question is, are you a sleep farter? If so, how did you discover this? If not, how can you be so sure you aren't a sleep farter? A dear friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, told me that she discovered that she was a sleep farter when she fell asleep during a lecture and awoke to the sound of her own toots! She sheepishly looked around at her classmates expecting to see people laughing and pointing but no one was. Were they just being polite or were they all closet sleep farters who felt a sense of empathy and opted to stifle the urge to call her out? I must admit, dear readers, that i am a sleep farter. And I discovered this in much the same way as my nameless friend. I've been abruptly awoken by the sound of my own body. I've also been told by those who have been fortunate enough to share a bed with me. Embarassing as this may be, I freely admit it here on my blog because it is one of those things that serves as a great equalizer. Yeah, you might make more money than me but I bet you fart in your sleep just like me. We won't discuss this over lunch with our colleagues or at the sunday dinner table (unless you're a Busby) but let's just all be honest. It happens. We can't control it. What are you going to do?

Hello and welcome to my Blog! This is my first go at it so I figured I should put something humourous in here to make you all smile. So here is the story of the day. We have two people, Sharon and Vernal, who run our cafeteria here at work. They are both lovely and engaging folks who keep us entertained and well fed. Unfortunately, Vernal has been moved to a cafeteria in another company in a galaxy far, far away.

So on his last day I went by the cafeteria to bid him adieu and thank him for keeping my belly full. We chatted briefly and I wished him well and then boldly asked him for a hug. He said “of course!” and came in for some sugar. At this point he whispered something unintelligible into my ear and while I didn’t hear what he said I assumed it was something along the lines of ‘nice to know ya’ or ‘best of luck’. So I smiled and said nothing. He then asked, “Did you hear me?” to which I answered honestly, “Actually no.” He leaned in again and said ever-so-clearly “Do up your zipper!”

 

 

Boy was my face red.

 

Have a great day!