My friend E (AKA Spitgirl) has honoured me in a most remarkable way this evening by posting a song on her site that she wrote for me about the wait. I'd be lying if I said I'm not a blubbering mess after listening to it...
Please take a moment, go here and listen. It's truly beautiful and sums up SO much of what we're all going through.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
What were they thinking?!
Click on this and tell me you aren't thinking the same thing. WTF?*
Who would make an item for a baby with such a message?! I've heard of a lot of things in my day, but I think this one takes the cake. Anything for a buck I guess, but I mean, REALLY?!
*Ignore the annoying commercial that plays before the article.
Who would make an item for a baby with such a message?! I've heard of a lot of things in my day, but I think this one takes the cake. Anything for a buck I guess, but I mean, REALLY?!
*Ignore the annoying commercial that plays before the article.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Customer service?! ***UPDATE***
Josh had to go away for business this morning and called a limo a couple days ago to make sure it was here. You'd think that was a done deal right? Well if that were so, then you wouldn't be reading this post. :)He called a company he hadn't dealt with before (big mistake) and made the limo 'reservation' for 5:00 am...ugh. (I've been up pretty much all night, I rarely sleep the night before he goes away, but that's a side issue.)
Anyways, he got up, had breakfast, said goodbye to Deuce and waited at the front door at 4:55 for the limo and expected it to arrive any second.
WRONG.
He called the company and said that they were late (limos should really be early at best, if not arrive right on time). So the guy said the limo would arrive momentarily. Josh said that was unacceptable and asked for another one to be sent.
We both got a funky feeling from the guy on the other end of the phone (who probably never sent the second limo). Around 5:05 I called the company and the asshat said "the limo is on your street and he will be at your door in less than a minute." He also said that Josh must have called their downtown Toronto dispatch number instead of the number we just dialed because he had no record of it. Umm, ex-squeeze me? I think we know which number we dialed...
Now for those of you who have been to my place, you know I live on a VERY small street (for those of you who haven't...there are about 10 houses on my street), and since I was using a cordless phone I was standing outside during this call and told him that I was looking up and down the street and saw no limo. I asked him "would you like to tell me another story since you're so good at making them up?" (Yeah, I was feeling bitchy...I hadn't had my coffee and I was up all night.)
At that point he hung up on me. Heh.
I then called up a taxi, but about ten minutes later the limo arrived. Isn't it funny how "less than a minute" translated into ten minutes?!
I had half a mind to send him away and wait for the taxi...but Josh was getting antsy and it wouldn't really be a great idea if he had missed his flight just so we could rub it in to the limo company...(but it would have felt SO good).
So, off he went, 20 minutes late. He'll still get there in plenty of time. It'll take him about 20-25 minutes to get to the airport and he's taking a domestic flight at 7:00 am.
***It's 6:20 am and Josh just called from the airport and he's through security. He thought I (and by extension, all of you, would be amused by the following):
1. He arrived safe and sound at the airport at 5:40. He said he was REALLY glad that he got his boarding pass online. Thank goodness for Westjet.
2. The limo driver had a GPS. So yeah, he was probably never given the order...or he had his head up his ass. I think it's a bit of the former and A LOT of the latter. We are SO never using this company again...
3. When he was given the receipt by the driver (which he needs so he can expense it back to the organization he works for), it had a different name than the company he originally called. Methinks there's something rotten in the State of Denmark. ;) ***
Monday, April 21, 2008
Hon, what's that thing in your hand?
This morning I woke up to a most unpleasant sound of *BANG* *CRASH* *THUD* *SCREAM*
Though I do have to admit that the bang, crash, and thud had to do with something falling out of my husband's armoire, and the scream emanated from me. I can't say that I was terribly impressed at being woken up by a racket of, well, brackets.
If you remember this post about our move (almost seven months ago), our asshat movers claimed that they lost the brackets from my dresser mirror. Well, this morning Josh was reaching far into his armoire to pull out a golf shirt and out tumbled said brackets. Gee, I guess they WEREN'T "left in a pile of dust" in our apartment after all.
Once an asshat...always an asshat...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Joy joy joy... ***UPDATE***
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
19
Today marks our 19 month LIDiversary and we decided to go for a bit of a "theme". I figured that since the legal drinking age in Ontario is 19, we had to do something in honour of that, so without further ado...
Let's get ready to RUMBAAAAAALLLLLLL!!! :)
To go along with the "theme", I decided to pay homage to my favourite group of ladies who have helped me tremendously through this journey to Little Maple. A little group who has affectionately come to be known as the "Asshats". I'm sure that you've been to most of their blogs in the past, and if not, I highly recommend checking them out (in my sidebar). In honour of all of them, I have decided to add this charm to my bracelet.
I updated my blogroll yesterday so if you notice that your blog is missing, or if you want it added, let me know.
Yes, my placemats in the kitchen ARE covered with maple leaves, and yes, before you ask those bottles are MINI bottles of ice wine. ;)
Let's get ready to RUMBAAAAAALLLLLLL!!! :)
To go along with the "theme", I decided to pay homage to my favourite group of ladies who have helped me tremendously through this journey to Little Maple. A little group who has affectionately come to be known as the "Asshats". I'm sure that you've been to most of their blogs in the past, and if not, I highly recommend checking them out (in my sidebar). In honour of all of them, I have decided to add this charm to my bracelet.I updated my blogroll yesterday so if you notice that your blog is missing, or if you want it added, let me know.
Yes, my placemats in the kitchen ARE covered with maple leaves, and yes, before you ask those bottles are MINI bottles of ice wine. ;)
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Show off!
While it's no Spidercat, it is pretty funny. ;)
I remember once when we walked into the den when we lived in the apartment and Deuce was climbing up the screen door. We had the sliding door slightly open (the screen door was closed), and he was halfway up the screen and had his claws stuck and couldn't get down. He was just a kitten and had his claws all wrapped around the screen and couldn't release them to get himself down. Of course, he repaid us for his freedom by scratching me to ribbons...ah memories. :)
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Over Protection vs. Independence? A debate.
(Posted by Josh)
Who's better prepared to survive in the urban jungle?!
I was sitting down to breakfast reading my copy of the Globe and Mail when I saw this article. Hmmm.
Lenore Skenazy offered her 9-year-old child a transit pass, some cash and a subway map and asked him to travel from Bloomingdale’s to their home.
I recalled my own experience. When did I get my first taste of freedom where I could walk out the front door alone or simply come home from school unescorted? I settled on Grade six or roughly 13 years of age. The gentlemen in cyberspace might say that my freedom lasted six months, the time between leaving my parents' home and being a bachelor before marrying Mere d’erable (Mother Maple). But I digress.
At 13, I could ditch using the door-to-door school bus service and take the Toronto Transit Commission (or TTC) home with some of my buddies who were rebels in their own right. At 13, I could go to the movies with my friends or go to swim lessons at the “Y”. The one condition my parents had was that the weather be warm, I told them precisely where I was going, where I could be reached and when I would be home. Generally speaking, I would go to places that were safe for kids and after a movie or swim lessons, I would call them if I were to crash at a friend’s place to play Colecovision (really, really, REALLY old version of Wii). It seemed all so simple. If I could not produce the requisite phone numbers, names and places, then I could not go there.
As an example, way back in grade two when I first met my long time school chum Terry Bradford (pseudonym) and went over to his house, I did not know his last name and heard it as “Bedford”. My dad looked him up in the phonebook, and said “there is no Bedford in the phone book at that address …come home”. We lived a few doors away so coming home meant a two minute walk. That might seem a bit anal, but once my parents and his parents met at a Victoria Day party, names and addresses were exchanged and everything was cool.
I am torn between parents who metaphorically throw their children into shark-infested waters to teach them to swim, and the other side of the house, post baby-boom parents who themselves grew up with lead paint, peanut butter, cars without car-seats, bikes without helmets, sleds used on snow, lawn darts…the list is endless, but treat their kids as gently as Wedgewood china.
Are the post baby boom generation compensating for their parents’ multiple trips to the “Museum of Fire and Knives”? Are they stressed by the lack of “Mister Yuk” stickers in their kitchen?
Can you really get pneumonia if you do not wear three woolly sweaters in July?
When I was a kid, I went to the fridge for milk and the big kitchen closet that contained the Cheerios, I did not look under the sink. Why? Because I saw where the food came from and it was not from under the sink or in the laundry room. My parents put dangerous materials in closets that were way out of reach for me and without a stepladder, way out of reach for my 5’4” mother. Simple.
How people born in the 1960’s and 1970s survived seems miraculous. I think parents have forgotten that one can be careful without being Ned Flanders. Conversely one can enjoy life and be responsible parents without being Homer Simpson.
I am curious to know what side of the house people are on. Are you Ned Flanders or Homer Simpson?
As far as the article, would I send a nine-year old onto the New York subway alone with the assumption that G-d looks after children, fools and ships named Enterprise? NO WAY.
There are too many risk factors in a city that big. Too many ways to get lost, robbed, roughed up or simply distracted by the bright lights of the big city. Does this child perceive time in the same way adults do? Does he know that his 20 minutes playing the newest Nintendo game on the way home actually added an hour to his trip? What happened to “not talking to strangers”?
If my child absolutely had to travel on the subway alone, I would take him/her on that route a few times so that they would learn the route, know safe havens (donut shops, stores or offices he/she can visit for help/food/telephone) and reinforce that he/she can ask uniformed TTC employees or a police officer for help. I would also let them know they should call me once they arrive at their destination. Anything less and I would be jumping out of my skin with worry.
Speak up. I want to hear from parents and parents in waiting!
Who's better prepared to survive in the urban jungle?!I was sitting down to breakfast reading my copy of the Globe and Mail when I saw this article. Hmmm.
Lenore Skenazy offered her 9-year-old child a transit pass, some cash and a subway map and asked him to travel from Bloomingdale’s to their home.
I recalled my own experience. When did I get my first taste of freedom where I could walk out the front door alone or simply come home from school unescorted? I settled on Grade six or roughly 13 years of age. The gentlemen in cyberspace might say that my freedom lasted six months, the time between leaving my parents' home and being a bachelor before marrying Mere d’erable (Mother Maple). But I digress.
At 13, I could ditch using the door-to-door school bus service and take the Toronto Transit Commission (or TTC) home with some of my buddies who were rebels in their own right. At 13, I could go to the movies with my friends or go to swim lessons at the “Y”. The one condition my parents had was that the weather be warm, I told them precisely where I was going, where I could be reached and when I would be home. Generally speaking, I would go to places that were safe for kids and after a movie or swim lessons, I would call them if I were to crash at a friend’s place to play Colecovision (really, really, REALLY old version of Wii). It seemed all so simple. If I could not produce the requisite phone numbers, names and places, then I could not go there.
As an example, way back in grade two when I first met my long time school chum Terry Bradford (pseudonym) and went over to his house, I did not know his last name and heard it as “Bedford”. My dad looked him up in the phonebook, and said “there is no Bedford in the phone book at that address …come home”. We lived a few doors away so coming home meant a two minute walk. That might seem a bit anal, but once my parents and his parents met at a Victoria Day party, names and addresses were exchanged and everything was cool.
I am torn between parents who metaphorically throw their children into shark-infested waters to teach them to swim, and the other side of the house, post baby-boom parents who themselves grew up with lead paint, peanut butter, cars without car-seats, bikes without helmets, sleds used on snow, lawn darts…the list is endless, but treat their kids as gently as Wedgewood china.
Are the post baby boom generation compensating for their parents’ multiple trips to the “Museum of Fire and Knives”? Are they stressed by the lack of “Mister Yuk” stickers in their kitchen?
Can you really get pneumonia if you do not wear three woolly sweaters in July?
When I was a kid, I went to the fridge for milk and the big kitchen closet that contained the Cheerios, I did not look under the sink. Why? Because I saw where the food came from and it was not from under the sink or in the laundry room. My parents put dangerous materials in closets that were way out of reach for me and without a stepladder, way out of reach for my 5’4” mother. Simple.
How people born in the 1960’s and 1970s survived seems miraculous. I think parents have forgotten that one can be careful without being Ned Flanders. Conversely one can enjoy life and be responsible parents without being Homer Simpson.
I am curious to know what side of the house people are on. Are you Ned Flanders or Homer Simpson?
As far as the article, would I send a nine-year old onto the New York subway alone with the assumption that G-d looks after children, fools and ships named Enterprise? NO WAY.
There are too many risk factors in a city that big. Too many ways to get lost, robbed, roughed up or simply distracted by the bright lights of the big city. Does this child perceive time in the same way adults do? Does he know that his 20 minutes playing the newest Nintendo game on the way home actually added an hour to his trip? What happened to “not talking to strangers”?
If my child absolutely had to travel on the subway alone, I would take him/her on that route a few times so that they would learn the route, know safe havens (donut shops, stores or offices he/she can visit for help/food/telephone) and reinforce that he/she can ask uniformed TTC employees or a police officer for help. I would also let them know they should call me once they arrive at their destination. Anything less and I would be jumping out of my skin with worry.
Speak up. I want to hear from parents and parents in waiting!
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Keep guessing...
Well, none of you were right in your guesses, although I do have to say that Michelle was closest. At least she had the right continent...oh yeah, and all the letters in her guess are in the country we're going to (with a few more, just to throw you all off).
The picture has nothing to do with our trip, I just loved it. ;)
Monday, April 07, 2008
5 days ***UPDATE***
The picture pretty much sums up my feelings on the batch, so I really won't comment on it further than that.
Josh and I had a fun-filled weekend. We took advantage of the GLORIOUS weather we had and went for a nice long drive up to Bobcaygeon and Fenelon Falls and took in some of the scenery. We went for a long walk and just enjoyed some 'us' time and talked about a vacation that we're in the beginning stages of planning. It's not the trip to Calgary to visit them (which we're TOTALLY excited about), it's another trip that we're planning probably in the Fall. We just need to get away.
***Well, Michelle came up with an interesting 'game' and it piqued my interest. She left a comment and is trying to guess our vacation destination. Only a couple of you know where we're going, so you can't play (and you can't give hints to anyone, neither can you, Spitgirl)...leave a comment if you want to try to guess where we're going on our Fall vacation. It might be amusing to see your guesses... ;)***
Friday, April 04, 2008
Happy birthday, candy girl!
Happy birthday, K1! I hope you have a wonderful day, you deserve it. :)
I knew saving this picture would come in handy again...
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Happy "75th" birthday
Today are my brother's (AKA Ugly) and my brother-in-law's (D) birthdays...combined, they're 75. Happy birthday, you old farts!
(I'm so dead if they see this.)
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