I'm a sucker for quizzes

Free-Wheeling Dreamer

Fast-Forward Weekend

Where in the hell did the weekend go?

Friday after work I allowed myself a couple of hours in the used cd warehouse. I amassed a huge pile of jewel cases, encompassing a wide range of muscial styles. Since the shop I frequent is like a kinder, gentler version of the one in High Fidelity I had no problem whatsoever plopping everything on the counter and letting the three musical gurus paw through them, judge me a little, then shuffle them around into order of importance. They really should have charged me for the lesson I got in how my newest interests are connected to my old favs, it was so interesting!

Saturday was soccer (Go Blues!), burning a cd for my BIL, spending a luxurious amount of time in the shower, driving out to my Mom and Dad's to take Mom shopping, then back to their house for hamburgs and cribbage. I won, thank you very much. Very rare, so totally worth the half-hour drive...

This morning was brunch at our usual place, Sam's Club, The Boy's Mom's house then home to clean and bake. Celebrity Poker is charming me right now and I'm finding it difficult to tear myself away to pick up our panzerotti. It's making me wish I knew how to play.

I need another day.

Too Big a Bite

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I've scheduled myself into oblivion.

"Where's Oblivion?"

(If you guessed the movie, bravo!
You just successfully passed another hurdle on the way
to becoming my friend and drinking buddy.)

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So, I've signed up for Holidailies. God help me.

Every year I sign up and every year I start to wonder why about halfway through. What with decorating, baking, making gifts, writing, licking, sticking and stamping for card exchanges, shopping and working, I usually wind up comatose by 7:30 p.m. each and every night. Why I think I have way more gripping things to say during the busiest month of the calendar year is beyond me. Maybe I involuntarily rise to the challenge; half the time my subconscious has signed up before my more mature, reasonable conscious mind can slap its hand away from the keyboard, saying, "Whoa, dude! Are you sure you've got time to write interesting and informative missives every single day until the first week of January? Take a second and put aside the fact that you're a serious Stats Whore; you're toying with your readers if you aren't one hundred per cent committed to this. Do you want to be a wanker and back out halfway through? Do you?
WELL DO YOU SOLDIER?"

I guess I'm committed.

No, I am committed.

I'll do it!

(I'll try, anyway. So hang in, pretty people.)

The fun begins December 7 over at the journal.

Bad moon rising

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In an effort to open my mind in a sort of fast food way, I'm going to try to wipe the events of this horrid Monday morning away with the following from Unconscious Mutterings:

Here's the list. Play along and pop in a word or words that immediately leap to mind. Don't overthink it!

1. Mighty::
   
2. Gotta find time to ....::
   
3. Statistic::
   
4. Midnight::
   
5. Thaw::
   
6. Hips::
   
7. Reader::
   
8. Related::
   
9. Brilliant::
   
10. Posture::
    

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Here are my answers:

1. Mighty::wind
   
2. Gotta find time to ....::dance
   
3. Statistic::breast cancer
   
4. Midnight::train to Georgia
   
5. Thaw::spring
   
6. Hips::child bearing
   
7. Reader::'s Digest
   
8. Related::incidents
   
9. Brilliant::excellent
   
10. Posture::pedic
    

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Happy Monday. The week can only get better from here.

A stickler for tradition

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Last night I hunkered down in the backyard, shivering in front of our chiminea with a bag of marshmallows, a Hershey's Special Dark and some digestive biscuits. The Boy decided to burn some wood cuttings from building the shed and toss in two bags of paperwork that we had deemed worthy of the Burn It pile to boot. When he mentioned it as I took him a steaming hot tea in his travel mug, it struck me like a lightning bolt that I hadn't enjoyed a S'more this summer. That situation had to be rectified, and there was no better time than tonight or else I'd find myself toasting a marhsmallow over a stove element.

I waited until dark, then donned my (stoner) yard jacket and gardening shoes. Murphy came along with me, thinking mistakenly that he might get in on the feast. We huddled in front of the fire and I got started spearing marshamallows onto my stainless steel roasting stick, custom made just for me with a handle and everything. (Yes, I'm easily impressed.)

Last summer, at a rented house in Sarnia, I had the best time introducing S'mores to my 7-year-old niece and my 86-year-old Gran. It was a first for them both, and they weren't disappointed. Did I tell you I love traditions?

Real Christmas trees, my glazed pork roast for Thanksgiving, Easter Egg hunts, all these things have meaning to me. There are those out there who might raise an eyebrow and chastise me for supporting these traditions based on what they mean to society as a whole (big bunch of heathens that they are), but I feel compelled to keep them up because of what they mean to me. Anyone who wants to take issue with it can go pound salt, honestly.

I used to dress up in a Hallowe'en costume to answer the door to the little ones, and that's sort of gone by the wayside. I didn't lose interest, I just got tired.

Happy Hallowe'en!

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Yay: It's Friday!
Nay: As I have absolutely nothing planned for the weekend, it's sort of anticlimactic.

Yay: The last hour of work today is actually a Wine and Cheese introduction to the new instructors.
Nay: I have to keep to one glass of wine so I don't a) drive drunk and b) embarrass myself in front of the Dean.

Yay: I have actual money in my wallet.
Nay: I don't have the time to spend it in Toronto on beads and the Merrells I ordered have to be sent to me from Al-freakin'-berta!

Yay: The Boy is on the afternoon shift so I can eat popcorn for dinner if I want.
Nay: The Boy is on the afternoon shift so we are like ships in the night.

Yay: I grew a pair and have agreed to go to an informal high school reunion.
Nay: That pair shrivelled up and now I must still go to my informal high school reunion.

Yay: I'm sitting here at work with my pretty bare feet tucked under me.
Nay: As much as I love fall, I don't relish the return to socks.

Yay: Someone approached me about making them some jewellery!
Nay: I have to unveil it tonight and endure the uncomfortable discussion about money.

Yay: Two hours until wine and cheese!
Nay: I'm still taking drugs to rid me of a nagging headache.

Yay: I have a (temp) job!
Nay: I cannot believe what inconsiderate prigs some people around here are. I suppose you encounter that at any workplace, but I swear they beat a sense of Greater Importance into the budding teachers here.

Yay: Streaming radio!
Nay: Avril Lavigne on every freakin' playlist.

Yay: 3WAction
Nay: Certain volatile sections of 3WAction. Now, where'd I put my 10-foot pole?

Have a lovely weekend - stay safe.

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I have thought about it and worried about it and conferred with close friends and have now come to the conclusion that

I am afraid of journalling.

Not afeared of the blogging because hello, here I am. Blogger isn't sitting there keeping statistics, telling me with each passing day (24 at last count) how I'm falling down as a writer. Luckily, I am able to foist the blame where it belongs.

I found a cool new portal and I can't even sign up because of my inability to update with interesting and timely entries at least four times a week.

The content on said portal is great and I've been growing my Bookmarks file on a scale not seen since the early days of the love of my UBB life. Far and away the best of the bunch are Pauly and Meme & Co. Go, read, enjoy, bookmark.

Their writing is such high quality stuff (come on, "No, You May Not Suck My Toe", or, "If I Was a Pirate Psychologist"?) that mine seems more akin to reading the back of the cereal box. I've appealed to my notify kids for prompts and have received a number of excellent suggestions but it's that first step being the doozy that's stumping me.

I think I used to be funny. I know I used to be verbose.