Battle Preparations

Scottish warrior William Wallace.
Kinda.

Yeah. So. I phoned the phone company.

I had one message: LOWER MY DAMN BILL. I mean, come on phone companies: stop plundering!

Before I called I did some stretches. Paced a bit. Cracked an ice tray into a very large mug. Added scotch water. A little lemon. Did some cleansing breaths. Prepared to be on hold for 53 minutes. Yawned to open my ears so I'd be better able to decipher the foreign accent. (Hey. Don't judge me. I hate racism. It's called outsourcing.) Painted three-quarters of my face blue. Hunkered down, prepared for battle. Dialed. *cue James Horner film score*

Pressed 1. Pressed 5. Pressed 2. Hold. One minute passes. (One minute?!) "Hi this is Sarah, how may I help you?" (Perfect language skills?!)

(in Scottish accent) You tell your king that William Wallace will not be ruled, nor will any Scot YOU BASTARDS!!! "Hi Sarah. I've been a customer for many years. We no longer use our land-line phone the way we once did. I'm wondering what you could offer me that would lower my bill."

"Certainly sir. Let me see...(less than five minutes later)...so your new package should cut your bill by almost 30% and by upgrading your internet package at no extra charge your browsing speed should improve. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

[insert sound effect here]

"Uh. No. Thanks so much."

Later, unable to process the entirely unexpected anticlimactic nature of this experience compounded by all the bottled-up energy for the war I did not have to fight, I was forced to punch myself in the eye repeatedly because I obviously should have phoned months ago. Fuck.

Survey Says?

I saw this survey online. Which would you give up first?

a. Cell phone

b. TV

c. Spouse

It made me laugh. And then it made me think. How many people would choose cell phone? Honestly. How many people?

About four years ago now, major newspapers reported that there was one cell phone for every two people in the world. Imagine how many exist now.

This is not a post intended to complain about cell phones. That would make me a hypocrite. Although I don’t have a cell phone I would be extremely reluctant to give up my iPod. Or most definitely my laptop. How would I continue to email? Tweet? Blog? Shop online? I can’t imagine my life without these.

That’s odd though isn’t it? I can’t imagine my life without these various forms of technology and the luxuries they provide? When I let that process for a minute it makes me shake my head. Why?

Because actually, if I’m really honest, I can’t imagine my life without my family, my friends, ice cream, books, salsa, falling asleep on the couch, art, music, laughing, nature, my home, carpenters, plumbers, root beer, frogs croaking at night when it’s finally finally Spring and that’s just what I experienced in the last few hours. There’s so much more too.

It reminds me of this key question: “is the glass half empty, half full, or twice as large as it needs to be?” 

Dealing with Bulldozers

Warning: this is not always a toy.

If you're a parent you know that the love you have for your children is constant. That love is like a flag waving but sometimes, you're maybe not feeling so patriotic.

Why? Because despite our best efforts, raising kids can be so very difficult. So frustrating. I've never encountered anything more challenging. Ever. 

Ninja Mom, who knows a thing or 17 about the trials of raising kids, tweeted yesterday about a new book whose brilliant title alone does a fine job of hoovering the romanticism right out of parenting. Real parenting is messy. And it hurts. It's even scary at times. That's why you have to enjoy the laughs when you can.

My kids are both teens now but I could have used that book back in the day because despite being oftentimes dazzled by their cuter-than-cuteness, I learned fairly early on that parenting was not for wimps....

One morning I quietly slipped away from playing "trucks" with my toddler son to have a shower. Midway through my shower suddenly the curtain flung open and there stood my young son, his brows furrowed. (It was exactly like that iconic scene in Psycho except in colour minus Janet Leigh and with a lot more body hair, plus no one got stabbed although my startled heart was indeed flapping around in my chest like a fish in the bottom of the canoe.) Confused, I couldn't even respond. I stared at him and he stared at me and then finally he hefted his Tonka Toy bulldozer up and over the edge of the tub so he could unceremoniously drop it on my feet: KATHUNK. He then promptly left the room.

I learned then that this is how two-year-olds give the finger.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

DIY Moment #293

Yesterday, we had both this bathtub and a toilet on the front lawn.
Yup, we're those kind of neighbours.
(Notice my son's towel? We tried to convince him
to take his shirt off to stage a more realistic photo but that brat declined.
What? That's not questionable parenting is it?)

Wordfuse (Not-so-Savvy Version)

nonnoisseur (noun): non + connoisseur = one who is devoid of expertise in a variety of categories; an individual who is an expert at nothing yet still inspires/expects/is afforded a certain level of regard; the nonnoisseur may not even be aware of these shortcomings.
    
For a fictional example, see Michael Scott, the most clueless boss ever on The Office. Real-life nonnoisseurs seem to include a distressing number of celebrities. Examples abound but for careful analysis one may see most of the competitors on The Celebrity Apprentice. Or sadly, see also a variety of historical leaders.

Helicopter Ears

Meet Echo, aka Buns.

This is my daughter's rabbit. Something about her reminds me of Marge Simpson's sister Selma. I think if we gave her a pack of cigarettes she'd be a lot happier.

Buns has an extra chin she likes to wear under her chin. Sometimes she wants to be petted but she's a tad temperamental. Mostly she enjoys eating fashion magazines. How's that for an eating disorder Heidi Klum? 

Even though she has helicopter ears, she can't fly. Yet. We're teaching her. It's only a matter of time.

Happy Easter peeps.

Zoetic (What's for supper?)

They. Just. Make. Life. Better.

These are my home-made vegetarian "Spicy Sliders" with a side of fresh tomatoes, some of my wife's dill pickles (hiding somewhere) and fried onions. Add a rootbeer. And then a scoop of Aero bar ice cream for dessert. That's what I call zoetic.

Spicy Sliders

-1 can of kidney beans drained, rinsed and crushed with a fork

-1 cup of rolled oats

-1/2 cup of your favourite salsa

-1 jalapeño chopped

-1 small onion chopped

-3 cloves of crushed garlic

-Mix with some cumin and lemon pepper and whatever spices you want and I'm sure you can figure out the rest. They are best fried. (They're so low fat, why not?)

Sometimes

This is me in a state of confusion aka 24/7.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with complete self-loathing.

Sometimes I wonder if all that Tang and Kool-Aid I drank as a kid altered my body chemistry.

Sometimes I don't go outside for the entire day and it makes me feel guilty.

Sometimes I wish I had become a hydrogeologist which seems so strange to me considering it's so on the other side of the spectrum compared to everything else I really want to be when I grow up: author, artist, photographer, cinematographer, editor, reading specialist, screenwriter, Lorne Michael's assistant, television producer, musician, carpenter, set designer, Scottish strongman, museum curator, speechwriter, google employee, book cover designer, ted.com employee, etc.

Sometimes I get freaked out by call display like just yesterday this phone number came up: 123-456-7890. Seriously. And it made me wonder if I was in some sort of low-budget version of The Ring and my "number is up."

Sometimes I get nervous just thinking about crowds yet I really want to be part of a flash-mob.

Sometimes I hate Roger Ebert for tweeting too much but then he'll write something that blows my mind.

Sometimes I feel old but not old enough to drink coffee.

Sometimes I am more invested in the characters I read about in books than I am with the real people in my life.

Sometimes I wonder if I had given my kids different names if they would be different people, not better people, just different.

Sometimes I stop and pick up rocks and put them in my pockets because they're beautiful.

Sometimes I want to redo everything I just did and yet if I truly were a hopeless perfectionist wouldn't I care more about my pants or keeping my vehicle clean or not chewing my nails.

Sometimes, all I want to do is write all day long.

Sometimes I wish that a psychologist would read my blog and tell me exactly what is wrong with me.

This is my hood.

This is my neighbourhood. Word.
What's yurs like?

Wordfuse (Fall Down Go Boom Edition)

bada bing bada booboo (interjection): that exclamatory drum roll moment after what should be an effortless task goes completely awry and well, there's a big bruise or worse yet, blood. See my thigh, which still hurts one week after falling off a chair while trying to install a light fixture.*

*I apologize. Who in their right mind needs to see my thigh? And I'm being sort of a cry-baby about this aren't I?  I guess one might refer to this post as a bit of a bada bing bada boohoo. Sorry. Couldn't resist. #cantstopwordfusing #puningitis