Let's Try This Again, Shall We?

Because I tend to do laundry at night, I nearly always go to bed with one load washing and another drying. Then when I get up in the morning I'm usually trying to be quiet, so I don't go in the laundry room unless I absolutely have to.

Then evening rolls around, I think something along the lines of "Hmm, I wonder where my new jeans are?" and I get smacked in the face with the realization that I've had a load of laundry sitting wet in the washing machine for somewhere around 20 hours. Eeew.

Usually I dump in more detergent, crank it on again, and rewash everything. Generally this works.

However, there are times that I've forgotten a load of laundry for longer. OR, that I leave a load of towels, which, for some reason, seem to hold smell more than regular clothes. OR, it's that time of summer when the water has that faint smell of algae, and the clothes never smell as fresh. That's bizarre I know, since I live in a city, but I notice it every year....trust me.

I have done all of those - forgotten towels, for a lengthy period of time, while the water was infested with algae stink...and in fact, have combined the three. And try as I might, I cannot get that mild stink out of those towels. I've slowly been tossing them out here and there, when I notice one smells particularly awful, or when the mood strikes me to pitch stuff, but still there were some hanging around.

Until yesterday.

Over the weekend I tried to do the same load of laundry three times. As in, forgot a big load of towels THREE times over the course of 48 hours. There's just no going back from that.

I informed the household that I wasn't even wasting the hydro to dry them and proceeded to put them all into a bag, carry the 47 pound mess of dripping wet cotton to the dumpster, and heave it in.

Then today I went and bought six enormous, fluffy, beautiful towels. Tonight I came home and threw them in the wash. So, we'll see how this goes...though, judging by the fact that I only remembered they were in the washer at all is because I decided to write this post, doesn't bode well for their life expectancy...

I Need My Teeth

I love people that try to make others feel better. I try to be one of those people. I joke and listen and buy little gifts and do what I can to cheer them up.

But you know when you have those days? Those times when you're just cranky? Or irritated? Or maybe somebody did something to you that is a big deal to you, but then you tell someone else what happened and they just kind of go "Yeah, well they weren't trying to hurt you, right?" or "Oh, it's fine. Why are you so upset?"

And you just want to yell "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME BE *WHINY?"

*Insert word of your choice here - pouty, cranky, douchey, irritated, upset, etc.

Yeah, well I get that. It's friggin' irritating to have people try to smooth over my feelings. It kind of makes me want to kick them in the teeth. So from now on I'm going to give people a 10 minute grace period, where they can rant and rave and cry and pout, THEN I'll try to make it all better.

I think that's a good plan. I need my teeth.

So...Hi!

Did you miss me? Yeah, I didn't think so. You must all be used to me updating at the speed of a narcoleptic turtle by now, right? Right.

So what's been going on? Well I'll tell you - it's been a whole lot of nothing. Except that it seems like I'm always busy. Weird right? Does that ever happen to anyone else? Seems like all you do is run like crazy, yet when you sit down to think about what you've been doing, you can't really think of anything?

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Yesterday was Thanksgiving here in Canada. In a nutshell, here is what I'm thankful for: Ellery, my family, my friends, my health, love and second chances.

Ellery is growing like a weed! She's suddenly repeating every word, trying to recite the alphabet, trying to count to 10 (weird part is, she knows where to put the number 8 every time I count to her), using yes or no perfectly, showing signs that she may be ready to potty train sooner rather than later, and just generally being amazing. I cried today watching her, simply because I couldn't believe that she was mine. Love her.

I got a new tattoo just over two weeks ago now. It's bigger than the rest of the ones I have. It's two hibiscus flowers with a little E hidden in the vines on one side and her birth date written into the other side. I love it. And even though I'm 29, I still almost had a heart attack telling my mom. Her reaction was better than I expected - especially when I threw in that it was for Ellery - that won her over.

Tattoo about 2 minutes after it was finished. Three hours of needles. Not my favourite thing in the world.

In other news, check out that second pic! My hair is getting long!!

Otherwise...hmm, just working, painting pottery with Princess (which is for another post), playing with my camera, and um...that's about it.

This time I'm going to try really hard not to be such a slack ass with my blog. Remember those days when I used to post every single day?!?! That probably won't happen again, but about four times a week would be nice! Here's hoping!

You Should Be Doing That at Home

You know what I don't get?

People that do things in the car that are really meant to be done at home.

Wellllll, okay, so maybe there have been one or two times that I've done "something" in a car that was more appropriate for home...but um...yeah, we're not talking about me...ahem...

ANYway, I'm more referring to the people that are writing emails on their blackberry, smoking, talking on their phone and reaching to turn the music up, reading a book while they're at the wheel and that sort of thing.

But what irks me most is the broads that are applying their makeup in the car.

I mean, seriously, you couldn't have squeezed in an extra five minutes at home throwing on some foundation, dousing yourself in blush and putting on your mascara?

Are you really saving yourself a lot of time by trying not to poke yourself in the eye while you're putting on eyeliner in a 4 inch mirror at a red light?

Is that weak little interior light really the best lighting to be putting on eyeshadow evenly?

Are you certain you're not going to hit a pothole during your drive and cram half a tube of lipstick into your teeth?

When it comes down to it, I don't care if your vehicle makeup application ends with you looking like Tammy Faye Baker, but I do care if you rear-end me while curling your eyelashes.

So do us all a favour, and get up five minutes earlier tomorrow morning so you can do that at home.


*rant over

I Need to Work on My Reactions

Yesterday morning I went in to work early. I stopped for coffee on the way, which I don't normally do anymore. As anyone who drinks their coffee with sugar knows, having someone else make it for you is a bit of a risk- you either get too much sugar or not enough.

Now this may be hard to believe, but I tend to always need more :)

Anyways, as I'm walking out of the kitchen with my extra large coffee with no lid, I come dangerously close to running into James, a co-worker. Or more realistically, I come dangerously close to running into his belly button, since he's 6'3".

Me: (stop dead in my tracks and my eyes open wide)
James: (throws his hands up in mock shock at seeing me)
Me: uh
James: hehehe
Me: Aaaaaaaaaagh!!! (what can I say - it was a delayed reaction)
James: Ohhhhh, that's nice...
Me: What? (laughing)
James: That's always the reaction I like to get from the ladies.
Me: Oh, come on!
James: No, really, I love that scream of horror they do when they see me...
Me: Awww, James (laughing)
James: "Aaagh! It's James!"...Not really what I was going for.
Me: But maybe I was really screaming in awe at your obvious raw sexuality?
James: Well when you say it as a question, I tend not to believe you.
Me: Ah, touche.

Sex Isn't Always So Romantic

Don't you just love in movies or in adult content tv shows when they "make love?"

Or wait, excuse me perverts, don't you just love when they portray making love?

Everything is super sexy and lovey, every whispered word is more meaningful and heartfelt than either one of them has ever uttered. Even when it's just a good old-fashioned boink fest it's still the sexiest thing you've ever seen.

Every hair is in place, her lipstick is freshly applied, his face is smooth, every move causes wave upon wave of ecstasy, no one says something they shouldn't have said, nothing ever slips, no one ever yells "Owwww!"

The moment of climax always seems so spectacular and perfectly timed that you'd swear they had been training for it with a coach. And then, when everything is done, neither one is sweaty or tired and they lay in each other's arms and drift off to sleep whispering their I love you's.


Give me a break.


Now let's be honest here...in real life? There's sweat. There's swearing. There sure as hell isn't perfectly coiffed hair. And I know for a fact that it's not really that sexy.

Ladies, have you ever tried to keep your legs pointed at a super sexy angle? You're just thinking "I know this looks hot, I know he loves my legs like this." Then all of a sudden...LEG CRAMP!!! And it's not just a quick little muscle spasm either, it's a hardcore, need to stand up and stomp your foot, biting your lip and muttering curse words kind of cramp.

Leaving your hair down in reality? It's in his face, your face, it's stuck to his chest, it's in your mouth, and all it's doing is making you even more sweaty. And half the time in real life he's sporting a 5 o'clock shadow and the girl is getting whisker burn all over the place.

Most of the time by the end of the show long hair is in one seriously large knot on the side of your head, mascara is smeared from your eyes, he's weak at the knees, both of you are whispering that you need water, and on the way to the bathroom you trip over the sweats that were just ripped off your body.

And what about the mess? On tv there's never a cleanup. You never see a dude walking to the bathroom with a used condom, or see a chick reaching for kleenex or a towel.


I dunno, is it just me? Or are everyone else's sex lives uber romantic all the time?

Slob City

You guys know my deal - I work downtown, in the heart of Winnipeg, am an editor at a publishing house - and I'm 29. Most people would agree, that's pretty much "grown up."

During my commute, amidst my dancing and singing, I look around at the other people in the vehicles. My guess is that about 90% of those people are business people, heading to their downtown offices. These people are in business attire.

When I park my car and begin the five minute trek to my office, I often end up walking with a bunch of other worker ants. These people are also in business attire.

Thursday I wore a pair of jeans, a cute little shirt, flip flops and straightened my hair.

Friday it was chilly out, so I wore flip flops, new jeans - but they were made to look lived in, so they have a few "worn" patches and tiny rips in them, an AC/DC sweatshirt, silver hoop earrings and my hair in a ponytail.

Yesterday I wore jeans, flip flops, an old shirt that was once cute and my hair in a big mess of curls.

Anyone noticing a pattern here?

Like maybe I dress like a slob? Maybe I should be putting a little more effort into what I wear?

The fact is, even when I say I look like I just crawled out of a ditch, I generally don't look that bad - it's more that I look casual...extremely, extremely casual. But man, walking to work with all those "businessy" people, or going out for lunch with someone in a suit makes you notice how slobby you really are.

I used to get offended when people asked me what I did for a living and then when I'd respond they'd look at me and say "Really?! An editor?!?" I'm beginning to realize that maybe it's because I look more like someone who runs the till at 7/11.

Perhaps I should work on my "work look."

Not For the Easily Disgusted

So, last week, the husband says to me "What is that smell? In the kitchen?" I had no idea, figured it was a poopy diaper, and we took the garbage out.

Still the kitchen smelled.

We thought it might be the garbage disposal, so he put one of the cleaning pellet thingies down there.

Still the stink.

Around Friday I was wondering if maybe something was rotting in the fridge, but when I opened it, there was no smell in there.

Saturday morning E and I packed up to head to Ontario for the weekend. When we got there safely I called husband to let him know. I asked how the morning had been.

He figured out where the smell was coming from...oh god...I'm gagging again just thinking about it. See, after we left, he walked into the kitchen, and saw a maggot on our stove. Yes, you read right, a maggot.

Turns out? A bird had gotten into the exhaust fan above our stove. And it was rotting. And it had bred maggots.

And it had been there...all week at least...while we cooked dinners and went about our daily lives. I gagged so hard on the phone that I puked.

And even though it's been cleaned, thoroughly, I still avoid the stove at all costs. Even more fodder for my dislike of cooking.

Reality Check

I've been pretty absent for quite a while now. Something like 4 posts in 2 months or some garbage like that.

I've been engrossed in my own life. In Ellery, work, freelance, family, music, etc. But I've been ignoring some pretty major parts of my life.

That was all brought into check yesterday when I found out that a friend of mine (and ex boss) had passed away from cancer...in July.

I used to work for her right before I came to my current job. She was this amazing, hilarious red-headed goofball. She was married and had a beautiful baby girl who's only three years old. The last time I saw her was when I was eight months pregnant - then I got put on bedrest and had to cancel any more appointments with her.

In January we got a letter from her practice (she was a chiropractor) saying that she had to shut her office down for a while due to illness. I kept thinking it must have been her husband, or one of her parents that was sick. Though I intended to, I never called or emailed or stopped in at her house to check in on her.

I've been thinking about her lately, telling myself I should check in with her, maybe introduce her to Ellery. Then yesterday a co-worker asked me about an obituary she had seen a while back, asked if that was the woman I had worked with before. I checked. It was her. I read her obituary and sobbed at my desk. I'll never forgive myself for being such a goddamned lazy friend. She was 36 years old.

I never said anything about this earlier, but a co-worker (from my current job) passed away from cancer a few weeks ago. He was 35 years old.

Isn't it sad that it took the death of a friend to make me sit back and take stock of my life? To realize that lately anyways, I've missed things in my friend's lives, I'm sure in my family's lives, in all my blogger buddies' lives?

I'm heading home with Ellery tomorrow for the long weekend. I'm hoping to get in some good reflecting time and come back a little less self-involved.

Though I may not have said it lately, I love you all, very much.

A Bullety, Updatey, Paragraph Thingy

Ellery has started repeating everything she hears - and I must say, for 15 months, she's pretty freaking good at it. Good enough that I need to start watching how many times I drop the f-bomb right now.

There are two things she's currently doing that melt my heart. The first is that she has finally started calling me mommy - but the really cute part? She says Me Mommy. Kind of like MY mommy. Adorable.
The second is when you ask her what her name is and she roars like a lion. I love it. But then when you say "Can you say Ellery?", she now says "Ellwy!" I may die from the cuteness of it all.

I've got freelance assignments up the wazoo. Both writing and photography. The writing has some tight deadlines, so it's hard to have time for anything else. But it's cash baby, sweet sweet cash.

Even without the freelance, we seem to be doing amazingly with money. I have no idea how this is possible - it just seems that lately even after paying all our bills and spending it here and there, we've still got a bunch left. I think this is the first time in my adult life that I haven't stressed over money - it's a nice feeling.

The other day we ran out of q-tips. I don't know if any of you remember a particularly riveting post where I explained my inability to find and purchase them on my own - but essentially it said that q-tips reside in some parallel universe that I cannot locate.
However...the other day we needed them, I went to Shoppers Drugmart, and I found them. Just like that. Boom!

It's been raining here for what seems like months. I don't ever remember a summer that was so shitty and rainy. My kid has been in her kiddie pool twice this summer - that is so not cool.
So hey, Mother Nature? Could you smarten the heck up? This is Canada, not England.