And One More Time With Feeling!

Okay, I know I said we moved over to a new .Mac site. I am aware that it hasn't even been a whole year. But here's the thing. That new site would only work on some people's computers. So even though I poured my heart and soul into designing it, I'm giving it the old heave-hoe and setting up shop over at Typepad. So, until further notice come check out the new site which is still under considerable construction at Fabricated Goddess. I'll be updating there from now on. All of my old Blogger archives have been transferred already and I'm working on copying over the newer stuff. This site shall remain as is for the time being.

We've Moved!

This blogspot is currently inactive because we've moved to www.fabricatedgoddess.com. This is just a friendly reminder to follow the link and come find me at my new internet digs.

October 2007

October 3, 2007 :: Fun With Photobooth.... I should be busy tidying up all the loose ends from my website transfer. I should be finishing linking up my blogroll and adding all my archived posts from my old site. I SHOULD be cleaning my house from top to bottom in preparation of MONICA. Instead I’m over at S-A’s watching her kids while she takes a course, and playing with PhotoBooth. My new favourite pastime. YAY! This is what happens when Mrs. Hussey is in charge for the day. Sorta conjures up words like sophisticated, intellectual, and of course, scintillating. Ah, yes. That’s just the sorta gal I am. October 12, 2007 :: Not Sure... Okay so I’m not sure how I get myself into these things, but here it is. Friday already and the opening of the one act that I’m in for a one-act play festival. We, how shall I say this, are a train wreck. Yesterday at the tech and dress rehearsal we were the empitome of a gong show. None of us could remember our lines, we giggled thru the sound effects (a cow bell for pity’s sake? don’t even get me started) we guffawed, snorted and stumbled thru missed cues and homemade sound effects (whoosh? is that something a witch would actually say whilst casting a spell?) in short is was a disaster. An absolutely, positively wonderfullly hilarious disaster. I’m still giggling today. I’m nervous as heck that the same thing will happen tonight in front of an audience. But I’m praying that my sense of professionalism and decorum will kick in and I’ll keep a straight face - at least until we’re offstage and the whole thing is done. Honestly, I’m so nervous I’m tied in a knot. So wish me luck. I’m postitive we need it, if only to keep a straight face. October 15, 2007 :: Spinning Toward Nowhere... Sometimes I feel like I’m just spinning but not getting anywhere. Okay, that’s a lie. Most of the time I feel like I’m spinning and getting nowhere. Perhaps that’s normal. Perhaps it’s just the way things are in life - you can’t ever really see your destination even when you think you are purposefully pursuing a destination. Maybe it’s not. I guess I just figured that by the time I’d reached the age I am now that I have so much more figured out. That I’d have some sense of the direction my life was taking and an established pursuit. In so many ways I am aware that raising children and schooling them, and fostering their gifts and talents IS a powerful and worthy pursuit but it just doesn’t feel like my calling. And so I spin and spin and grasp at whatever comes my way. I wedding planned for a while. I’ve tried to sell stuff in that home-based business style. I’m involved in community theatre. I help people pick colours for their homes. I sew - sometimes for me, sometimes for others. I dabble in this and I dabble in that. I squander my energy and my focus. I exhaust my patience. I lure myself thru life hopping from one pursuit to the next. I recognize that this is unhealthy. I recognize the escapist tendencies in my behaviour. I recognize that I have to find a way to find a focus that isn’t destructive to myself or to others. And I’m working on it, people. I’m working on it. October 26, 2007 :: Gearing UP OR Why Am I Making This Face... Apologies for the silence over here. I’ve signed up for NaBloPoMo once again this year - which means I’ve been over here conserving energy and trying to come up with enough stuff to blog about every day for the month of November. I’m working on a schedule because that did actually help last year. It’ll probably be similar to the old list, just slightly tweaked. I’ll eliminate the recipes since I think I only did one. Also? Well, I’m pretty much doing away with any semblance of a schedule, because that’s just too structured for a whacky, read the magazine from the back type artsy like me. So here’s what I’m proposing. 1. I’m commited to writing little tributes to a bunch of people who I feel have impacted my life, taught me something, blessed me, etc. Kinda a NaBloPoMo version of this idea. So I’m making that list. Never know, you might be on it. 2. I’m going to try (I said try, don’t look at me like that already) to sketch in my book everyday. Lately I’ve been kind of privately lamenting all the things that I used to do that I feel too rusty at to try anymore. Singing and drawing are two things I used to feel sort of competent at and then life intervened and I just stopped making the time. Inspired by this book (I found a 1969 version Nicolaides “The Natural Way to Draw” at a used book store recently) all the familiar words beckoned me to try again and recall my university studio days, gesture drawing nekkid models. I promise to be worksafe if you promise not to laugh at my rusty ability. 3. “Words I Love” will probably make a comeback. 4. “Letters to Strangers” may abound, depending (apparently) on how hormonal I get. I’m betting I’ll start feeling feisty as this month rolls along. 5. “Things You Didn’t Need To Know About Me” No, not those kind of things. Quirky stuff, like the fact that I have to put my clothes on in a certain order. Underwear, bra, sock. Never NEVER socks first, because naked except for socks just feels so very wrong. Expect the usual musings to make appearances too. I think I should be able to fill something in everyday. Well. Here’s hoping anyway. PS: Anyone interested in a booby prize like last year? I could totally make something like I did last year and throw all your names in a hat. If you ARE interested, drop a comment. October 31, 2007 :: That Time of Year Again.... My children (like all children, I suppose) are excited about Halloween. It’s the candy. I remember feeling the same way - especially because my mum was kind of health food nut who back in the 70’s tried out all the new health foodie stuff on us, her two least willing but most readily available lab rats. So instead of Kraft creamy peanut butter we had freshly ground peanut butter - no additives - carob instead of chocolate, and homemade granola instead of Wagon Wheels. At Halloween though, she had no choice but to sit by and watch us devour real, honest to goodness treats instead of their paltry health food cousins. It was glorious. We each had one of those plastic trick-or-treating jack-o-lanterns that we stored our goodies in and I savoured each and every morsel of chocolately sugar coated goodness sometimes making that stash last well into December. That being said, now that I’m a mum, I sort of hate to admit that Halloween is my least favourite holiday. It’s hyperactive, sugar induced, delusional (and sometime verging on hysterical) behaviour makes me want to give it a very long and well deserved time-out. Nor do I enjoy the Idiocy that seems to follow Halloween around like a sycophant. Fireworks? Vandalism? Using a children’s holiday as a good excuse to dress like a tramp or a demon? Not my cup of potion. Still it’s hard to deny the draw for kids when I so vividly remember the excitement and energy that I felt on Halloween. Dressing up? Getting candy? Staying up past your bedtime - on a school night? What’s not to love? Although I have my suspicions this year that the candy factors in much higher than anything else. The biggest clue? They’ve decided that this year they are going as cardboard boxes. Literally. Now, isn’t that just about the most brilliant ruse to get candy you’ve seen all day? I thought so.

September 2007

September 30, 2007 :: Rainy Days and Sundays... Just another rainy Sunday afternoon. I’m sipping tea and mulling over my busy week. I spent the better half of last week at a learning styles seminar. I am now officially certified at level one....which means nothing really except that I can read my learning style profile and that of my family’s and make heads and tails of them. That and I can make a pretty graph about it. Beyond that though, I came away with a sense of newfound purpose. Not because the Learning Success institute ladies Victoria and Mariaemma converted me to a new way of thinking but because in so many ways this week my instincts and intuitions were validated. Don’t get me wrong, I was challenged in some areas. But, overall, my underlying belief that the best way for me to facilitate Ethan (and Finn’s too) learning is to back off, find the path of least resistance and in general let them be who God created them to be. This is much much harder than it sounds. I must constantly remind myself what is at stake, how I will defend my position, and in the end, to whom I truly answer if I get this wrong. Last year was our first year of homeschooling. I put a lot of pressure on myself to set up school at home and although we made progress last year - we reached all our milestones and then some - I will freely admit that neither Ethan nor I were estatically happy with how last year functioned. That’s not to say there weren’t some shining moments. There were. I just can’t really remember very many. We decided this year should be different. We discussed a number of options. Tutors, full time school, Montesorri. I spent hours asking myself, asking God, asking anyone who would listen which one was the right one for E. And then, just before school started this fall, it came to me. Just leave him alone. Really. See, there are three ways to ripen a tomato. You can pick it early, put it on the counter and it will eventually ripen. You could get all scientifically fancy and spray it like the mass produced tomatoes you get at the super market that are suspiciously hard and pale. Or you could, YOU COULD just leave that tomato on the vine and have faith that it will ripen all on it’s own when the time is right. After this last week, I have absolutely no doubt that my vine ripened tomato will be the far superior product in the end. September 28, 2007 :: What If... What if today I stopped thinking that my kids were out to get me? What if I stopped thinking that they were trying to make my life difficult? What if I started to take the time to engage them first instead of last? What if I started remembering what it was like to be a kid? What if I remebered how it felt to be yelled at? What if I started to think about how it felt to be lectured? What if today I tried to imagine how I would want to be treated if I were a kid? What if I was the one who tried to change instead of trying to change my kids? What if.....

Today Is THE Day....

May I present to you www.fabricatedgoddess.com I'm so please to tell you that my new site is up and running. I'm still copying over my archives and tweaking the new site, which given my questionable computer skills may take a while. This site will remain up too, so you'll still be able to come here and poke about. Thanks everyone who stops by, reads, encourages, and laughs along with me. You mean more to me than any words on this page could ever express.

Ode To A Cucumber: A Photo Booth Essay...

This shocking cuke came in our organic produce box last week. I have no words for this. I give you a Photo Booth essay instead. ODE TO A CUCMBER: Organic, to say the least. *takes a bow* My cucumber and I thank you. [Edit: this essay documents my thought process of "Holy Mother of Pearl if this is what organic cucumbers look like these days, then what on earth do the chemically enhanced, mass produced ones look like? Are cukes going to take over there world?? I'm somewhat frightened and oddly preplexed." except I couldn't say any of that because I was too stupified. Yes. By a cucumber.]

Half A Night's Sleep.....

Last night I had one of those nights. You know? Where you go to bed, fall asleep fine, and wake up two and a half hours later for no apparent reason. Then you lay in bed for two, maybe three and a half (who's really counting) hours hearing every little night sound (reads: every downtown asshole and junkie walking by your conveniently located stones-throw-from-downtown house, you know, smashing bottles and yelling shit) feel every twitch and think about every thing that ever did and ever will happen in your lifetime. And if your me, you can throw in the inexplicable neurotic itch factor. I shall call it the "jimmy itch". This is where your body randomly decides to itch not only spontaneous but also simultaneously all over, forcing you to start scratching like a monkey. In the middle of the night. While trying not to wake your spouse. Charming, no? Here's the list: (you knew I'd get there eventually) -Fret endlessly about the unfolded/unwashed laundry. And the fact that there is an entire beach bag (don't ask) of socks I've neglected to match up. Why can't they just match themselves? -Compile a list of to-dos while berating self for not having done everything there ever was to do already. C'mon kid, get with the progam this stuff won't do itself. -Worry that I'm looking old. More lines, more grays....ACK is that some saggy skin? Those dark circles under my eyes are actually bags? No wonder I can't camoflage them with coverup! What? I'm only 36! Wait. I'm 36? When did that happen? Seems like I was just 27 yesterday. Oh, right. That was before I had children and had my brain SUCKED INTO A GIANT VACUUM OF SPACE AND TIME!!! I've been home for almost a decade taking care of my family AND LOOK WHAT IT"S DONE TO MY FACE! By the time I am ready to get on with my life, it'll be half over or more. OH GOD! -Ahem -Worry that I'm doing everything half assed. Housekeeping? Sucks. Schooling Ethan? Oh yeah, totally screwing him up, I'm sure. Artistic endeavours? What are those....I'm pretty sure the painting and sewing part of my brain has shrivelled up and died. Writing? Oh why bother. The best I can come up with is this blog which I think a reader once summed it up best when they said, "Hey I read your blog. Sometimes there's some funny stuff in there." Ooookay, let's see, what else am I bad at. Acting? Ha! Got a small part in a one act play. Which I'm postive I suck at. Wait, I don't suck....I'm "okay". Now if only I could remember my lines. -Worry that the small bump just right of my chin is a carcinoma of some kind. -Worry that I'm drinking too much wine. But seriously, you try staying home all the time, and being responsible for everything. Schooling. Housework. Cooking. Laundry. Scheduling and transportation of all small people to all extra curricular activities. Discipline. Can't let them turn into jevenile delinquents. Because we all know that it's the mother who gets blamed for this stuff. It's always the mother. Heart palpitating, having trouble breathing. Wait. Maybe my problem is I'm not drinking enough wine? -Must.Learn.Lines. -Make a note to look into facial excercises to fight the signs of aging. -Look into herbal sedatives. Yes. Great. Good. -Or tranquillizers. -Worry that my children are not getting enough attention. Or excercise. -Worry that all this worrying and not sleeping is making me LOOK EVEN OLDER. -Wonder why I only worry about this stuff IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. Dunno. Just seems more convenient.

And/Or.....

OR we could just drink copious amounts of wine and hope for the best. Yep. That sounds about right.

It's......

It's first sips of coffee and cool crispy air. It's feeling all the possibilities. It's plunging in. It's all or nothing. It's one step, one breath, one word at a time. It's knowing and doing instead of just wanting. It's a large helping of fear served with a side of resolve. It's backing up and trying again. It's leaving that tomato on the vine. It's one eye on them, one to the future. It's ears tuned to Him. It's not looking back.

First Days.....

So this week marks again just one of the many, many “first” days. First day of spring. First day of work. First day of the rest-of-your-life. First day of school. Finn started kindergarten this week and it was as momentous a day as one would expect. He was bored of “this old playground”. He was trepidatious about the new lunch bag. He was disdainful of the new back pack (which for the record IS navy blue, even though he now claims it is a tinge purple, therefore unacceptable). He was unimpressed by the centers and downright bored by ‘circle time’. He slouched around his new classroom with his hands angrily buried in pockets or crossed rather, um well, crossly on his wee defiant chest. It’s hard to say the reason. He’s a social creature by nature and one (meaning me) would expect (DID, in fact) that he would have been thrilled to be a school - real school - at long last. He sat on the carpet at circle time and glowered at the teacher and other bright-eyed children. Finally he raised his hand and, to his credit, waited patiently for the teacher to notice him. She inquired sweetly, ‘Yes, Finn?’ and he replied, with all the attitude and force that only a 13 year old girl (not unlike a few I know) might be able to match, ‘I’m grumpy today and I don’t like school.’ To which his new teacher, with infinite wisdom and grace, replied, ‘Thanks for sharing your feelings Finn.’ and moved right along. No fussing. No pandering. No searching in vain for a reason WHY he didn’t want to be there. That was the end of that. I left shortly after, thinking it better to remove myself than suffer the stares of the other children’s [angel’s] parents. By the time I returned to pick him up two hours later, he was hugging the teacher. Which, I know, you’re thinking means he had reformed his way because of a little tough love from Mrs.S. But I know better. I know that Finn is, after all, no dummy. He knows that if he can’t conquer by force and intimidation, then he must simply switch tactics to get his way. He’s overcoming all obstacles by the sheer magnitude of his love. Thus marking the first day of his world domination tour. Watch out, he’s coming for you next.

My New Favourite Thing....

One word (well technically maybe it two but they are smooshed together): OmniOutliner. Let me backtrack for a moment. My new MacBook is fabulouso. It practically croons me to sleep at night. I'm working on a couple of new things and the software that this thing has makes me wonder why anyone anywhere would ever us a PC again. And yes, I know that there are dyed-in-the-wool PCers out there who will now threaten to bomb my house for saying such a thing, but when you are the type of computer user who has in the past frequently been heard plaintively calling 'HON.....I clicked something and now the thing won't do that thing...No...I don't have any idea what I did. NO! It doesn't just happen to me. [it does] Really it's not my fault.' then this Mac? with it's intuitive software? Pretty much heaven on earth for a demi-geek like me. Case in point. The other day I was browsing thru the applications in my Finder (and seriously, did these people design this stuff specifically for me? I mean 'Finder', you know to find things, really?) looking for something else when I came across OmniOutliner. I never thought I'd say this but this software has the potential to change everything - dare I say quite possibly to improve the quality of life around here. I know this seems hasty but something snapped inside me when I watched the tutorials for this litte app. You see, I'm not much of a list maker. I'm more the store-it-up-in-my-head till I reach maximum capacity and then explode. Efficient, no? Yes, and healthy too. But now, I can click open my OO and just start typing. There isn't any need to worry about organizing it until it's all out of my head. Then it's simply a matter of click-drag-drop into it's rightful place and voila! I am an organizational maniac. And I know that I could just write things out by hand, but somehow it's just not the same. All the same reasons that I don't write in a notebook. Somehow opening a fresh page here or in my Outliner just makes me percolate with possibilities. Start typing, fill up the pretty box, click, post, print. No distracting hand writing. No pens that mysteriously stop writing half way thru said list sending you on a fool's errand to find another writing utensil. Pristinely printed pages (and pages and pages) of well organized lists. Enough lists to wallpaper a room. sigh.... I think it might be love.

Letters To Stranger.....

[A formal apology if you are getting bored with these....I've long been storing up this one without an appropriate venue in which to share. It's sorta like therapy for me. And now, in a cruel twist of fate, you may need therapy if I post too many more of these.] Dear Generously Proportioned Cosco Shopper, Hola. May I be the first to tell you that I admire your moxie. You really are working those pink jersey short shorts. And, hey, I for one, am all about the accepting the body God gave you. Although I’m questioning the wisdom of accepting the axiom of “we wear short shorts” as a truth on which to stand. I feel I must tell you, I’m troubled by the vision that you are on two levels: Firstly, your shorts vaguely resemble giant pink panties, or maybe the shortie bottoms from a pair of baby-doll jammies. Not wholly fit for standing in line at Cosco doing a little wholesale shopping. Although that’s totally your prerogative. Secondly, by far the more pressing matter - and there is no delicate way to put this - your bum is eating your shorts. That is all, FG

Letters To Strangers (I'm on a roll).....

To the lady at the supermarket yesterday, in the bulk bin section - yes, you: Dear Sneaky Taste-Tester, Well, well, this is a surprise. I was under the impression that you were an urban legend. That most grown adults, in particular conservatively dressed grandma types, know that it is absolutely unacceptable to take a tester from a bulk bin of snack food with their bare hands. I thought you didn't exist. That you were a mere figment of my imagination. I imagine that you should be ashamed of yourself, but from the nonchalant way that you nibbled your corn chips and moved on, I'm assuming that you hadn't even a small pang on guilt. It's not like you were testing the chippies to assess their freshness because you were going to buy them. You just gathered a dainty handful and kept walking. Now look: it's really none of my business, I suppose. Perhaps you are from a foreign country where they don't have bulk bins and you were delighted to see the grocery store had kindly provided row upon row of tasty snacks for weary hungry shoppers. Maybe you had a slight brain aneurism and temporarily forgot your manners. Or, perhaps you thought that no one was looking and like the whole 'if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make any sound?" that because no one was looking that you therefore didn't technically just steal those snackerels. The thing is? We saw you. And by 'we' I mean me and my kids. And we all know that kids don't let adults get away with crap. They immediately demanded to know why you were eating from the bulk bin. With your bare hands. Without paying for your snack. So I told them the only reasonable thing I could think of. I told them that although there was nothing we could do about it, and that I didn't know why you were eating from the bin, that if I were in charge of you, I'd put you in a time out for 62 minutes. One minute for each year of your life. I think that's reasonable. In fact, I think we'll suggest it to the store manager the next time we're at Coopers. He could put a big old time-out chair right there in the bulk food section with a giant timer on display above it. Consider yourself warned. FG

More Letters To Strangers.....

Dear Oxygen-Tank Dependent Motorist, Hi. Clearly it's none of my business as to why you require the nasally tubed supplemental oxygen. And obviously you are alert and, well, upright, what with all that extra oxygen. But I'm just wondering if it's entirely wise for you to be driving your car. Alone. On a very busy highway. I'm concerned about hose kinks. Or you, know, empty oxygen tanks. Or, oh heavens, mid-drive tank-changes on the fly. You are making me nervous. Respectfully, FG

Letters To Strangers.....

To the hot-body 60-ish lady at Starbucks, yesterday: Dear Hot-Body, First let me say, kudos on the great shape you are in. It's obvious you have taken care of yourself. You've got it going on, and I, for one, applaude you for it. Way to go. I hope and pray I am in as decent shape as you in another 30 years. Also, bravo for not choosing 'slut gear' to show off every nook and cranny of your fabulous figure. I'm impressed. Lesser women would have caved to the pressure of the 'got it? flaunt it.' approach to apparel that seems so so prevalent these days. So, not only are you in great shape, you are also mature. I know. What a concept. However, one word of advice. You may want to rethink that pale yellow terry cloth athletic outfit you were wearing yesterday. It was very cute, but it kinda looked like pyjamas, which, considering where we live, it is not all that surprising to see jammies out in public. But honey? I could see the white thong you were wearing on your specatacularily firm bottom right thru those pale yellow terry yoga pants. And while I guess I should be thankful you were wearing any underwear at all, AND furthermore, while I am fully aware of how the thong underwear functions, it is quite another thing altogether to be forced to view a public demonstration of exactly why the thong is sometimes referred to as 'butt-floss'. Repectfully yours, FG

This Is A Story About A Box....

This is a box. This is some of the stuff that went in the box. This is an empty box. See? Some of the stuff from the box went here. Most of the other stuff from the box went here. Bye stuff! OH look, it's a truck! I wonder what is happening to the box? Lift OFF!! Going. Going..... Gooiinnnngggg...... Gone. [Edited to add: this is my first post on my new MacBook....I don't have a mouse yet, so it took me two days to do this post....and I may now have carpal tunnel. Umm, also, as a sign of maturity and growth, I accepted this MacBook as my 15th wedding anniversary present from my sweet Erin instead of the equivalent money offered to buy me a new diamond. Whaaa? you say? Yep, I picked the more practical gift. Lucky for you I did, 'cause baby? I've got big plans. And, yes, the driver of the truck thought I was nuts.]

Starting Out Slow....

I had dreams - big dreams - of updating this space on a regular basis. Apparently life is still not resembling anything 'back to normal' yet. So, in lieu of an actual post, I'm going to give you a new photo. Think of it as my way of saying I still love you. Even though it's not what you logged in to get. I know, a poor substitute for my wit and charm. Always ready for a fight..... [Edited to add: getting better with this new camera, huh-huh, don'tcha think??]

Holy Smoley....

Hi. I'm baaaack. No really. Don't be pessimistic and shut that browser just yet. I promise, I'm really going to post here again. And I know, okay? I KNOW I've said that before. But now that I'm back from my fake vacation at my new fabulous fake vacation home, I'm all geared up to get in, well, gear, savvy? Okay, so where to begin. I've had a slightly stupid year. You all know we've been renovating, which can I just say NEVER again? It's been a long dirty process. Not one I'm going to jump into again anytime soon, or at least in this lifetime. That being said, the basement is 500 square feet and one errant electrician away from being 100% done - give or take some doors and a bunch of trim. But really who's even paying attention to those little details when we are so close to having 1000 square feet of extra living space?? Not I, oh no, not I. I? I will be doing a break dance of joy on that new pristinely laid cork flooring down there. [Which, incidentally, for those of you in the know, is almost as awe inspiring as my impromptu interperative dances, only much more dangerous for onlookers.] In other words, YAY FOR RENOVATIONS THAT ARE DONE, or nearly done, as the case may be. Somewhere along the way though, I went a little snakey and had trouble doing much besides checking other peoples blogs and looking at piles of unfolded laundry. Fold? Laudry? Why bother, my inner voice of reason said. Just torch the whole place and start over. MUCH easier. But I'm ready to get back on track now. And I promise, that does include writing in this space more than once every three months. Hang in there, brave readers, it's only gonna get better from here.

Oh! Hi....

Yes. This is me. Remembering that I have a blog. And remembering that there is life outside of homeschooling. And renovating. And juggling various administrative type tasks for various theatre companies. I'm tired of it all. And I know, I owe you all a huge update and a commitment to get back on track with this blog thing. But instead? I'm going to give you pictures of the men in my life (or at least some of them). In order of appearance: 1- Finn in the tub.....bubbles....need I say more? 2- Ethan: Intensity Personified 3- My sweet, sweet brotherin-law Jordan (feeling self conscious around me and my cam) 4- More fun in the tub. 5- One very tired husband. I'm so in love with them all.

Well, I Bet You Thought Aliens Abducted Me....

Okay, so here it is. I'm doing props for a local show and I've pretty much been living at the rehearsal hall. Don't get me wrong, I've been aware of how little I've posted here in the last three months. And for the record I've tried to post, but it's like the part of my brain that writes went on vacation. So in an attempt to put something ANYTHING (as Erin put it so kindly this morning) here....I've a list. Here are 45 things you may never have needed to know about me: 1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? The Beatles song "Michelle". Which is why it's so SO special whenever some clever person sings it to me. Actually, I'm being over sarcastic. I don't really mind when people make that association with my name. What I hate? When people call me "Shell-Bell". 2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Full out, gut wrenching sobbing cried? Can't remember. Suppressed tears....um, last week. 3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Yes. 4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? honey ham 5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? If I answer 'no', how long will it take the magic fairies to come collect these two creature who are currently lounging on my couch? 6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Maybe. I talk too much sometimes. And I've a tendency toward being a bit neurotic. I think I would annoy me - as another person. Wait. I'm confused.....would me, as another person, know that it was me? Or...what? I can't answer this one without more coffee. 7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? no. 8. ARE YOU MISSING ANY ORGANS (TONSILS,APPENDIX....)? Um, not that I'm aware. 9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? NO!! 10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE CEREAL? Captain Crunch. Don't tell my kids. 11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Nope. 12. ARE YOU PHYSICALLY STRONG OR EMOTIONALLY STRONG? Pretty wimpy in both departments, although I like to think I'm emotionally strong. Which I can totally pull off until someone uses the last of my coffee cream without replacing it. Yeah. 13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE ICE CREAM? For the love of PETE! Why do you all assume that everyone LOVES ice cream?? Maybe some of us don't like ice cream. Maybe some of us are lactose intolerant. Maybe SOME of us would rather strap a big ol' bag of chips onto our head like a feed bag. Ever think of that?? 14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? haireyesteethhandsfingernailsshoesclothes FOR MEN OR WOMEN ? um..... 15. RED OR PINK? Red 16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? If I were going to be completely vain I'd say my thighs. If I were going to be completely transparent I'd say my need to verbally process. 17. BOOKS OR MOVIES? Before kids: books After kids: movies .... I don't really have time to read 18. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? what, like right now? You're assuming a lot, you know. 19. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? popcorn with butter and seasoning salt. 20. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? the distant sound of kids shows. 21. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE? Chartruese....everyone knows that. 22. FAVORITE SMELLS? The crook of my husbands neck....or his t-shirt when I nick one to sleep in. 23. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Probably Erin or Sherri-Ann....hard to say. 24. ONE WORD TO DESCRIBE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Well, technicaly I STOLE this from Simone over at her blog.....which is one my blogroll and I'm too lazy to link right now. 25. FAVOURITE T.V. SHOW? Big Love! HBO, how I love thee. 26. HAIR COLOUR? Brown, but it would please me if you'd refer to it as 'dark auburn'. 27. EYE COLOUR? Green and brown, but again, please call them 'hazel'. I'm all about the fancy names. 28. FAVOURITE CHOCOLATE BAR? Dark chocolate - because it's gluten free. 29. WHAT'S THE NEXT THING YOU ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO? My basement being finished so that we can move back into the rest of the house. 30. FAVORITE FOOD? Salad (with everything in it) 31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? OH please! Happy endings, of course. 32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Orlando. 33. WHAT COLOUR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Stripped. 34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer 35. IF YOU COULD LEARN ANOTHER LANGUAGE, WHICH WOULD YOU CHOOSE? Spanish 36. FAVOURITE DESSERT? Cheesecake with oreo bottom 37. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? A learning Styles book and Respectful Parents, Respectful Kids. 38.WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? I don't use one. Scandalous, I know. 39. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING YOU SHOULD BE DOING RIGHT NOW? Laundry. OH man, that gene skipped a generation. 40. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? CMT awards show (for my sweet, sweet country music lovin' husband) Excellent for practicing my southern drawl, y'all. (EDIT: okay that part I filled in a while ago....but I'm not changing it.) 41. FAVOURITE SOUND? Laughter - genuine, belly aching, tear inducing laughter 42. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles, hands down. 43. WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Irian Jaya, Indonesia 44. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? What do you mean by 'special'? 45. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Sarnia, ON

This Is How Bad It Is.....

Even my husband is berating me for my lack of posting. Sad. Really good excuses forthcoming.

Spring Has Sprung....

Scooter Heaven...

The Low-Down on the What-Now....

I've tried to post an entry about 18 times in the last twenty four hours. I log in, open a new post window and then stare at it pathetically until I can't take it anymore and shut the window down. I can't decide if I don't have anything to say or if I'm just too inherently lazy to actually formulate a real post. Or wait. It could be apathy. Don't forget the apathy. So I thought instead of some witty (ha!) post or snappy dialogue-ish banter, I'd just give you an update on what's been happening around here. Erin got home on Saturday afternoon from his training in California. Yes. Sunny So-Cal for a whole week without kids while I stayed home WITH the kids ALONE in the SEMI-DARK-DANKNESS of late late winter. THE JOY!! In all honesty, I was not looking forward to the week, but it actually was so much better than I thought it would be. Dare I say it was sort of peaceful. The reno-craption stopped for the week, there was no school or other hectic activities. We went skiing, mini-golfing and bowling. Quiet, it seemed, was just what the doctor ordered. The only downside of the whole thing was that we all missed him terribly which made the boys ask me about 18 gazillion times when is dad going to get home??. Toward the end of Saturday afternoon they started asking every 3.5 seconds each time louder and louder. As if saying at 10 decibels above a normal speaking voice would illicit the proper response. As if maybe, perhaps I temporarily become hearing impaired. I so wished I knew how to sign "I don't understand what your are talking about". Anyway, he arrived and there was much chaos and handing out of treats and kisses and hugs. It really was a lovely homecoming. He brought me a cute polka dotted summery shirt. If the sun ever shines again here, I'll be rocking that top. He brought the boys the requisite toys. The best thing though? He brought back this coffee that we had the first time on our honeymoon and now he swears that it's the best coffee. [Personally, I don't think it's so much a case of how amazing the coffee really was, but more the fact that we were on our honeymoon and having all that sex.] Somewhere between packing up his suitcase on Sunday morning and arriving home here late the same day, that poor vacuum sealed canister of Folgers French Roast popped it's top and exploded all over the inside of his luggage. When he opened it up in the kitchen Finn exclaimed "Daddy! Why do you have dirt in your suitcase??" There was much laughter as we cleaned up the precious grinds. In other news, I did a clothing purge. My closets look much much better. Now the challenge will be to keep them looking like that. For more than 2 days. Also? The weather keeps saying "partly sunny", but I'm not sure what part is sunny. Certainly not here. And another thing. How is it Tuesday already??

Selfie Saturday....

Yeah, yeah, it's been a while. New camera, be darned! Selfies still lure me. So, straight..... Or curly....

Silly Doodle....

'Cause I'm sillly. And I like to doodle. EDIT: I don't know why I can't get this picture bigger....this new camera, I tell you is making me all oy vey. Also, I should mention that I say oy vey so much that my kids have started saying it. Except they pronounce it oy bey so it kinda sounds like oh boy. Which is good, because when you take into consideration that the older one has also picked up the habit (thank you - Seinfeld watchin' Daddy) of shouting "HOOCHIE MAMA" at the most inappropriate times, oy vey is really just the icing on the little-old-man-from-Queen's cake that we seem to be channeling around here.

Here's How It Works.....

Or, How To Annihilate Your Sense of Self Confidence In 9 Easy Steps. Step 1: spend two days preparing a monologue for an audition. Step 2: audition. Step 3: get phone call from producer - 'we really, REALLY liked you, you did a great audition, but unfortunately, you know, because of the other casting, we couldn't find a place for you this time. BUT you were good!. And we aren't just saying that! We have other shows!' click. [this means I look too young for the older parts, too old for the younger parts, too short, too skinny, too cute, too something to fit in] Step 4: allow 10 minutes of self pity (give or take a week or so) and then move on. Step 5: producers phone again - 'hey listen, one of the other actresses MAY drop out, and there MIGHT be possibly a part opening up, would you still be interested? We'll call you back.' Step 6: wait two days. Step 7: producers phone AGAIN - 'Hey listen, it looks like the other actress is going to be able to do the show. [OF COURSE SHE IS!] Wanna do props for us instead?' [Hmm, not really, but okay, because I want to look like I can handle the rejection maturely.] Step 8: slowly lose hope of ever performing again. Step 9: repeat, ad nauseum.....

Say It With Me.....

Ethan: Mum, I forgot how to spell my name. Me: Um, at 8 years old you have name amnesia? Ethan: Tell me how it goes again. Me: Ethan: B-O-O-G-E-R. Ethan: B-O-O (pause) G-E-R? Me: Yup. Ethan: Booger? Me: Yup. Finn: Do me! Do me! Me: Okay. Finn: M-E-A-T-B-A-L-L. Finn: Does that spell Finny? Me: It sure does.

Welcome.....

Hello there, gentle reader. Welcome to March Madness, or spring break as you may know it. We here at the Casa Del Boncos would like to greet you with a warm embrace and perhaps a mildly inappropriate bum massage. Which you will ignore. Also? We have morning breath. You have been warned. But, what am I saying?! Come in! Sit! WAIT! Not there. Sorry, my housework is a little behind. Yes, that's it, just scooch that pile of unfolded BUT CLEAN laundry over. See now? Your fitting right in here. What's the matter, my little pork chop? You look a little pale. Ah, not to worry, you'll so get used to things around here. I promise. Now, to business! I have a two week break here to catch you up on all that you have been missing. ME! You've been missing me. So before my comment box fills up with nasty notes about not posting, I will get back on this poor neglected horse. And hopefully, once I'm back on I will remember what to do. Right? Okay, that's the plan. Don't look so confused! You are so coy sometimes, petit chou! Pretending like you have no idea what I'm talking about. I love that about you. Alright, I'll spell it out for you: I will be posting EVERY DAY during March Madness! What? I didn't post on Monday? Really, that was yesterday? Oh you! Always such a stickler for details. Never mind, I'm conveniently ignorant of the little things. I'm looking at the Big Picture! You should know this by now. No matter, I'm not one to chastise, most especially you! 'Till tomorrow, sweet lasagna, I bid farewell.

I'm Still Here....

Faithful readers, friends, I have not gone anywhere (except perhaps a little crazy) I'm still here, and I'm still blogging. You know, composing blog posts in my head while I'm doing other things, fully intending to come here and give this space a good dose of me on a regular basis. But there's a problem. Somewhere between formulating my next post and actually typing it into the nice neat box that Blogger so kindly provides for slacker writers like myself, there's a gigantic disconnect. I think it's called life or "who knew having your kids home all the time would eat up so much time and energy". Really. But, FEAR NOT, for it is March break around here and we have two weeks off to catch up on everything. My washing machine is rejoicing. Look forward to such wonderous posts such as "Life After Cheese" and "Still Pooping: Season 2". OH COME ON!! You know you've missed hearing about my bodily functions. Just admit it. I promise, I will update you on all the haps. You can thank me later. 'Till then, here's a couple of recent photos to tide you over. Mr. Tough Guy Suki Stands Guard Ethan - Ball Hockey Boy

Dignity Is For People Without Children.....

Standing in the kitchen, making lunch. Finn is chattering to me and randomly patting my bum. Finn: Mum, how did you get such a soft squishy bum? Me: Oh, that? It was a present for my 30th birthday. Me: You can stop feeling it now. [And for the record, it's not THAT bad, for my age. And two kids. And a tragic addiction to chips. Really, when you think about it, it should be MUCH bigger and squisher than it is.]

Junk Mail....

File under "S" for 'Say What?'..... Spam Subject Line: Junk Bald Tragically Cry Yeah-huh.

Overheard....

File under "S" for scintillating. Shop Girl 1: I'm hungry. Wanna order something? Shop Girl 2: Sure. What do you feel like? SG 1: Pizza? SG 2: I don't know. Maybe. Dominos? SG 1: There's the Yellow Pages. You calling? SG 2: Okay. Hmmm, Dominos doesn't deliver before 11 am? Even ON SATURDAY?? SG 1: Weird. SG 2: They should be open all day Saturday. Really early. SG 1: Yeah. SG 2: Hey, there's an ad for hypnosis in the middle of the pizza ads. HA HA HA. SG 1: Um.... SG 2: That's so funny! SG 1: How 'bout Pizza Hut? SG 2: Ugh! Too salty. Taste like they poured a cup of salt on top. SG 1: I could really go for Chicken Chow Mein. SG 2: No. I can't eat that. Too much MSG. I always get sick. SG 1: Really. SG 2: Yes. The first time I ate it, I got sick. The second time I ate that, I got sick. SG 1: Hmmm. SG 2: Yeah. I hadn't eaten all day and then I ate it and then I got sick. I got a headache and my eyes went all glassy. SG 1: Wow. Pita? SG 2: NO. Oh no, they gave me food that wasn't cooked all the way last time. And then the next time I went there they gave me raw food again. SG 1: Oh. SG 2: You could get salmonella. SG 1: I guess. SG 2: Besides, they are putting less and less stuff in their pitas. Ha ha ha. SG 1: The deli? They have those egg rolls. SG 2: NO.WAY! SG 1: You don't like those? SG 2: They are just big grease balls. I can't eat those. SG 1: Quiche? SG 2: What?? SG 1: You know, QUICHE. SG 2: ... SG 1: Those things? With the bread? SG 2: ...

Update....

One mountain of laundry down. One to go.

Let Me Count The Ways....

Oh temporary insanity, how I wish you would go away. Cranky - again - because this: -children, with the fighting, and the yelling, and the arguing. (that's my lego! NO it's mine! NO THAT"S MY LEGO! No MIINNNE! I have to go to the bathroom! NO I have to go to the bathroom! ETHAN!!! I HAVE TO GO!!! THE POOP IS GOING TO FALL OUT OF MY BUM!!!!) I so wish I was making this stuff up. -hormonies.suck.full-stop. -no sun! Oh my good gravy! what I wouldn't do for a full day of sunshine right about now. I went to the health food store and bought some sort of happy pill that was - no joke - called "sunshine in a bottle". Lord please let this help! It's been a dank, dark, cold winter here. -dirt. dust. more dirt. -2 mountains of laundry. I'm incapable of conquering the laundry. I guess that gene skipped a generation. -980 square feet of chaos. Yep. That just about sums it up.

Oh The Humanity.....

Just so you know how truly melodramatic we are over here, I give you this conversation with my son: driving home from gymnastics, I break suddenly and send everyone flying forward against their 'passenger restraint devices' Ethan: Whoa! What just happened? Am I dead? Me: Yes. Your in heaven. Welcome to eternity. Ethan: It's weird that it looks exactly like home. And another thing, I'm still wearing the same clothes. Me: .....

Photo Thrusday....

Just a few snaps that I took this week. A close up of some rocks. Scintillating, no? A rare photo of Ethan NOT making one of those faces. This one is entitled 'unimpressed'. Seriously - could he look more bored with my snapping? And apologies for the lack of posting here. I really have to get a handle on this new schedule. When this will happen, I don't know. And I promise to stop apologizing for not posting - it's getting old, even for me.

Owning It.....

So. Not only did I not get a part in the play that I auditioned for, I didn't even get a call back. Which sucks. And makes me sad. And makes me want to quit trying this. Because really, maybe it's all just a pipe dream in my head. Maybe it's all a massive distraction. And then, I'm reminded that words and images and art is worth something. This passage from a poem is pilfered from a long forgotten post in an old forum. It won't mean much to any of you, but for me, it broke some wall that was strangling me. After Finn was born, I'd succumbed to a deep dark tunnel of depression. Mostly I'd come out of it, I was feeling some things. But this cut thru what was left of my inability to feel things deeply. I felt (and maybe I was projecting, and maybe I wasn't) that this exerpt was a direct reference to how I'd responded to someone else's pain. I'd felt this twinge - a glimmer of that terrible burden of grief that comes from losing someone close - and it cut thru the numbness I had been wrapped in and I had responded to it in an honest but horribly insensitive way. "A family is crying as much as I am, and you are going on with your lives. You’re cuteness and empathy is so sweet and cool and hopeful; But eliminate a soul from your life, feel that; FEEL that, and come back and tell me how you care, how fucking thankful you are “I’m thankful because I'm not sharing your pain; but hey, I hope that is a sympathy” The internet has made you fucking robots. Your slim view has made you marginal. Cry. Cry for us, at least that. Cry for us. " -J.R. (aka: Couch Guy) And I did cry. I cried all day after I read that. I couldn't even explain to Erin why. I'm sure he thought I was really losing it. I couldn't shake the sadness that I'd hurt someone with my transparency. That I'd been so callous to appear to diminish the deep agonizing pain of someone else's loss. But I also snapped to attention that words do matter. That words have power. That words and art have monumental potential to reach beyond boundaries and distance and time. Someone's rebuking words - someone I don't know, a country away, whom I will probably never meet face to face, had with those few paragraphs managed to slap me out of the numbness I'd been wallowing in. And crying? It was exactly what I needed. Timely that I ran across it now, this week. This week when I'm wanting once more to say I'm done - I give up I'm reminded again that words and images and this is important - it is powerful. I'm reminded that this ability, this opportunity to express what I'm exploring, what I'm feeling isn't just meaningless words on a screen. Because even if it only ever resonates with one person, a country away, whom I'll never meet face to face, then the effort to keep going - beyond my comfort zone - has been worth it. Because this year? I'm daring to dream again. And more importantly? I'm owning.that.word.

Time Flies....

One question I'm going to ask God when I get the chance one day is Why does time fly? Why doesn't it ever take the scenic route. Like say, the train? And what's with always insisting on a one way ticket? Come on back, why don'tcha! I'm so freaking busy! Today I realized just how long it's been since I updated this blog with something other than a one-liner or a photo. My apologies. I will get back in a groove someday. Promise. I'm just unsure as to when that might be. Also? I'm really really really REALLY tired of this renovation. The basement is so close to being ready for drywalling and our friend Rob is working his tail feathers off getting it done for which I'm so SO grateful, but I also SO DONE WITH THE WHOLE MESS! Can't we just torch the place and start over? (I don't really mean that, honey, it's just the PMS talking) I'm tired of tripping over stuff and cleaning up sawdust (soon to be replaced by drywall dust) and this whole winter-lack-of-sun thing isn't really helping. Wow, am I cranky! Yesterday I had one of those sneaky headaches that JUST KEPT GETTING WORSE in spite of the amount of pain medicine I pumped into my body. I'm sure it didn't help that I ate chips, chips, and oh yeah, more chips. It's my new PMS diet. I'm going to market it to martyr types with the tag line Don't Suffer Silently With PMS: Make Everyone Else Suffer With YOU!! 'Cause really, what more fun than PMS with a junk-food induced migraine? I'm eating a salad as big as my head right now to avoid the same fate as yesterday. My family thanks me in advance. In other news, I auditioned last weekend for this summer's Shakespeare production in town. It went okay. I guess. Who can really tell. Now I'm just waiting to hear back one way or the other and trying to convince myself that I'm okay with not getting a part. And really, with Shakespeare, where a cast of 25 has only 4 female roles, I kind of have to know the odds are stacked against me. Still, I'll stand by the old cliche that it's good practice to audition, because who doesn't need more humilitation in their lives? Not me apparently.

Winter Sunset.....

So Where the Heck Have I Been?

A most excellent question. I've been doing a whole lot of this: And not very well either. My new camera is complicated and I don't really know what I'm doing BUT THIS IS NOT STOPPING ME! Oh, no. It's the new and improved BOLDER updated version of me. I won't be put off by a camera. I will conquer that sucker. Other than that, it's been busy busy here getting the kids (and oh, heck me) back into the routine of life after Christmas. I did enjoy my break. I think my birds almost came back. Now, back to business as usual.

Happy 2007...

I'm off for a couple of days of R & R with a good friend and fellow homeschooling mama Sherri-Ann. Or, as Finn put it, to take a bw-ache from kids. Yes, Finny, I need a small break. Loves to you all. Happy happy resolution making too!

Last Soul Searching of 2006....

The last couple of months or so I've come to some big conclusions about myself. Like pieces of a puzzle, things have been clicking into their proper places. Two things stand out among the many faults I've accumulated over the years: my deference to other people's opinion of me and the waiting for everything to be just right before I embark on any creative endeavour. Actually waking up to these facts and not walking around them anymore has been liberating. And scary. I keep reminding myself one step at a time, sister - no more, no less required When I was a kid we moved a lot. A LOT, a lot. My Dad's work took us thither and yon and well, back again.* In a lot of ways it was an amazing way to grow up. I was exposed to different cultures and new experiences and I had to learn at a very young age to adapt to an ever changing landscape. I don't regret those things at all. Sure sometimes it was sad to leave a place I felt settled and face making new friends and learning new lingos, but in the end I think I have actually benefitted - the pro's far outweighing the con's. That being said, there are a few blips I've had to consciously choose not only to work through but to recognize as negative influences on the way I live my life. Being the new kid at school had it's ups and downs. My grade 4 year was, by far, the least positive experience of my life. I moved back to a school I'd attended for Kindergarten sometime in the spring of that year. The kids in my class took an instant dislike to me - for whatever reason kids that age decide to hate with such conviction. My life was made miserable every moment of every day. All I could do was hold myself together until my key slide into the lock of my front door at the end of each day. My parents and I were waiting it out. Things had to get better. Things usually got better. But then? Then I wrote a speech - a speech that ended up winning a medal and more hatred than I could have ever imagined. Because it was a good speech. Because I delivered it well, in front of a gym full of peers and teachers. And you know, I wanted to die when I won. I wanted them to give that medal to anyone but me. The first real encouragement and accomplishment I'd ever really recieved was for writing and I was afraid what it would mean in the classroom, in the school yard, on the bus. I hide my medal in my backpack that day. I rode the bus home with barely concealled tears. I knew what success meant and it wasn't good. I wished I hadn't written that speech, hadn't delivered it. I wished I hadn't tried. Did you get that? Grade 4 and the price of succeeding was too much to bear. Don't try. Don't dream. Don't dare. Too painful. Too much. The sting of that one just wrapped itself around the the last two and a half decades to bite me in the ass. It hurts to know how much I've stiffled in the last twenty-some years. It hurts to know that I have squashed my own ambitions. It hurts to know how much I've been resisting what's inside. As 2006 draws to an end I can't help but be grateful for last few nuggets of truth that I've uncovered in the past week. I realized that I have been stuck in survival mode for, well, most of my life. All the moving and adapting and hang in there - this is just a stage stuff had an impact. When the chips are down, when the last boat sails, when the going gets tough I know how to how to bluff it, tough it and stuff it, 'cause baby? I WILL survive. And that's a good thing, really. But I'm not a kid moving around from place to place every 18 months or so - I've been here in this town for 6 years now. I think I can stop surviving. Wait. I know I HAVE to stop surviving. I need to thrive. I need to flourish. It's taken me almost 36 years to recognize that I'm stuck with the 'sink or swim' button on. So number 1: I'm consciously choosing to turn that switch off. And as for number 2? The words echoing around my head from that grade 4 year who do you think you are? need to be answered with anything but nobody from now on. If I have been afraid of failure then I have been even more terrified of success. As ridiculous as that sounds. For the record? Nobody doesn't live here anymore. *IN NO WAY am I saying any of this to point any amount of blame at my parents for transient and exciting life we lived. The negative factors that have blocked my way happened in spite of their best efforts not because of them. And despite the adventure and upheaval of moving so much, my parents always provided a stable secure home wherever we landed and for that I'm truly grateful and indebted.

The Last Selfie of 2006.....

Here it is, a day late and a dollar short - the last self portrait using my good old Kodak EasyShare digi-cam. I'm moving up to a digital SLR. The EasyShare has served me well, but it's limited capabilities were starting to drive me crazy. So I'm getting an Olympus Evolt 500. I am beside myself with joy.

Merry Christmas...

From Olive and us. Joy and Peace. Light of the world and Truth.

The Haps...

Well people, the Christmas rush has finally hit me. I've totally fallen off the blogging wagon. No self portrait, no updates, no sadly accurate funny conversations. I promise, there will be down time in the next two weeks. School is officially on hold till January. My stage manager days are over for now - and for the record, no one was hurt so that's something, but the curtain did start to fall down half-way through the second performance which so the potential was there. Other than that, it was just the odd missed line, a missing in action performer and a geriatric speaker who dragged the intermission out for 25 freaking minutes. Business as usual I'd say. Thanks for tuning in. I promise to be back soon with some last minute crafty type updates. For now, I'll wish you all a blessed Christmas season. May God be present in a very real way in each of your hearts this year as you celebrate with family and friends. And may you know how much I love each and every one of you.

A Boy Named Finn....

Here is a boy named Finn. He is an active and loving child. He enjoys animals and lego. He loves to ride his bike and run and jump. His favorite new toy is this piece of wood. It appears to be a bit of broken furniture, perhaps from a long forgotten dresser drawer. Oh, it's a wonderful toy(?). It's very snuggable. Finn's been known to take it to bed. It's a lovely companion on long car trips. Or even short ones. Who doesn't love a good plank to keep them company? It's especially good for practicing ones skateboarding or snowboarding. See? And look! Particularily good for decimating, erm, I mean springboarding on the couch. Oh, look! He's done. Great jumping Finn! Tune in next week where we'll find Finn playing tea party with his two new best friends: Mrs. Cotton Ball and Mr. Dryer Lint.