Thursday, February 28, 2008


Husbandly One's work schedule is all over the place, and there are many nights when I go to bed alone. Still, this doesn't bother me. I enjoy my solitude, I enjoy the evenings when I can eat popcorn for dinner, scrapbook, and watch whatever I want on TV, with no one checking hockey scores every commercial. I know that, even if I go to bed alone, I will wake up with him.

Then there are nights like tonight. He is away on a quick business trip. I kissed him goodbye at 4pm, and I will kiss him hello around the same time tomorrow. Essentially, it is identical to those nights when he gets home late. Except it's not, it's not the same thing at all. He won't be home tonight.

He didn't have a choice, he had to go, it was an important trip, and I understand that intellectually. But the emotional part of me is all sooky, sad, and lonely. The simple fact that I know he won't throw an arm over my hip while I sleep has me devastated.

I suppose that's a good thing.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Definitive proof my job is better than yours

Today I was tearing through the kitchen at work, and one of the sous chefs yelled, "Hey, Irma, c'mere! I got something I want you to try. I made macaroni and cheese!"

Macaroni and cheese, made with Cambozola, Brie, and lobster.

See? I WIN, my job is better. Unless your career involves you helping people, you know, teaching or being a doctor or whatever. Or unless you are passionate about what you do and it gives you deep personal satisfaction. Or unless you don't like freaking amazing food. Other than that, though? I win.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Please pray for Jacob

Things are really bad right now, at this exact moment.

PLEASE pray for this beautiful baby, only a year old. You don't need to know his full story, just pray that the Lord spares little Jacob VanMackelbergh, pray that his heart continues to pump blood and that his lungs don't colapse again. Let him stay with the family who loves him, let him grow up to be a wonderful man.

Please pray.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Age appropriate

At the age of thirty eight, I have experienced many fashion revelations about growing into "early middle age." Things I have learned over the years:

Bikinis? Well, I actually gave those up at age 27, when I was forced to re-evaluate my post-baby stomach. What was once relatively flat with a lush curve to it, had been reduced to an angry red Interstate pointing its' way to my fecundity. I don't want to see my stretch marks, so why would I subject unsuspecting masses to their hideousness?

White pumps? I have worn them twice in my life: to my high school prom in 1987, and to my wedding in 1994. Other than that, JUST SAY NO. Please.

Miniskirts? I thank the Lord and all his saints, angels, seraphim, and assorted other good guys that I still have the legs to pull them off, but, umm, should I?? No. There comes a time when a hemline two inches above the knee should become your limit if you want people to think you are Serious, as opposed to just thinking that you are Sad.

Stretchy tops? Only good if I am wearing a jacket over it. And standing up. And not moving. And sucking it in. Otherwise? Bad idea.

But tonight I learned a whole new lesson. Since I was 12, I have always had long fingernails. Nails that (thank you, genetics!) are literally perfectly formed, with a pleasing curving shape, and hard enough that more than twenty years of abuse hasn't changed them. I mean, I WON. I consider my nails to be one of my most attractive features. (We'll discuss how pathetic that is another time, thanks.)

So I went out to buy new nailpolish. I tend to wear soft, pearly, gentle colours, but I was drawn to this gorgeous vibrant red. I remember wearing a similar shade in my early 20's, how sexy my hands looked. And seeing how looking sexy tends to strike me as a good thing, I bought it and just applied this scarlet lusciousness to my hands.


Holy shit, EXCEPT that my hands now look like Cruella DeVille. Give me a black cigarette holder, tiny boobs (ok, got that part!), and a coat made out of puppies, and we could be the same person. I am floored by how bad the bright red polish looks on my hands, it's like seeing Maggie Smith in hot pants.

Is this really how Middle Age starts, with nail polish??

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Pray with me

I don't want to get in to details, because I don't want to invade another family's privacy, but....

If you are the praying type, can I ask you to pray for little Jacob. He is the sweet baby son of my friends and he is going through a very rough patch with his heart and, by extension, his lungs. He is just a baby, and has spent a great deal of his life in hospital. He is in a wonderful children's hospital three hours away from his home, so only one parent is with him at a time, while the other parent stays home with Jacob's twin sister. This is a beautiful, loving Christian family who would appreciate your prayers..... whether those prayers be Christian or not.

Right now, they could use specific prayers that the latest clot on his aorta can be dealt with through medication, rather than through another surgery.

Please help. Thank you.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

This is the Song That Never Ends...

...yes it goes on and on, my friends.


This time yesterday, we had two bathrooms in our home. Now we have one bathroom and another room that has become a gaping hole.... including the gaping hole in the floor which has been stuffed with old t-shirts to keep sewer gases from entering the house. Ewwwwww.

Our basement has long been the thorn in our side. Husbandly One paid more for the house because the basement was finished. It has become clear that the previous home owner was a do-it-yourself'er who finished the basement as quickly, cheaply, and shoddily as he could. Bastard.
And don't get me started on Husbandly One's home inspector.

Neither here not there, life must go on, right? For us, that means tearing out the whole rotten mess and starting over. We plan to expand the bathroom by taking a few feet from the unfinished workshop space. New everything, including a glass block shower. When we're done, the bathroom downstairs will be nicer than "ours".... which mean he'll probably want to renovate our bathroom next!

I'm telling you, it never ends.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Be careful what you wish for

A few weeks ago, I took Valentine -related matters in to my own hands. I sat Husbandly One down, and calmly explained to him that THIS year I wanted him to actually DO something for me for Valentine's Day. And I made it easy and clear: "I want you to take me to a movie. I don't want to come home from work that day and then have some big debate about what-do-you-want-to-see-I-don't-know-what-do-YOU-want-to-see. I want to get home, know that you have tickets, and that we are going out."

Husbandly One loves me very much, but he doesn't really follow current movies. So, all on his own, he went out to buy tickets. Nothing really "spoke" to him, so he picked what he thought would be a nice, light romantic comedy. (First alarm bells should have gone off at that point..... I haven't seen a romantic comedy since "Pretty Woman" for Christ's sake.)

When we got to the theatre, I had NO idea what movie he had picked. On our way in, I kept my eyes on the floor so that I wouldn't see a random poster outside the door. For the first time in my life, I sat in a darkened theatre with NO idea what movie I was about to see, and I must confess it was delicious fun, kind of like Christmas morning with a bucket of popcorn.

I was secretly hoping for "Juno".

Instead I got "Fool's Gold".

It started at 9:10. At 9:30, I looked at my watch for the first of many times. Around 9:40, I considered asking Husbandly One if we could leave, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Around 9:41, he leaned over and, without taking his eyes off the screen, calmly whispered, "This is fucking awful."

I made the MASSIVE mistake of looking at him when I answered back, "Omigod, this is the worst movie I have ever seen in my LIFE." Looking at him was a mistake because it caused me to giggle. You know, those deep, soul cleansing giggles that you can not control. I finally DID get it under control and then looked at the screen again. The sheer previously unimagined level of badness that confronted my senses, however, only made the giggles worse. And then I felt him shaking with laughter next to me, and I was done.

I literally had to put my head between my kees to stop laughing. I finally got my shit together and sat up again, ready to be a grown up about the situation, just watch the shitty movie. And I managed quite admirably until I realized he was looking at me, biting his lip to keep from laughing. And then I REALLY lost it.

I sat in my seat, in the PACKED theatre, trying to catch my breath while wave after wave of giggles overcame me. Tears poured down my cheeks and my stomach hurt. And every time I thought I was ok, I would look at him and lose it again.

Fun, fun night. Worst movie in the universe, but a fantastic date.

And in honour of this cinematic masterpiece, here are some excerpts of a review by Patrick Walsh I found on-line after we got home. Must admit, the reivew made me laugh almost as much as the movie.....

By the time this review is over, I will have spent more time thinking about Fool's Gold than the writers of its script. one of the sloppiest pictures released by a major studio in recent memory. What can you say about a "romance" with no romance, a "comedy" with no laughs, an "adventure" with no excitement? Though I certainly wasn't rubbing my hands together in anticipation walking in to the theater, I thought this would at least succeed at being an enjoyable time waster. "Attractive people wearing few clothes in exotic locales -- I can handle watching that for a few hours," I thought to myself. But I was wrong. So very wrong. The whole affair is about as compelling as a two-hour fart.

A relentlessly shirtless and Nickelback-coiffed Matthew McConaughey plays Finn (have you ever met a "Finn?"), a beach bum/treasure hunter obsessed with finding the "Queens Dowry," 40 chests of treasure lost at sea in 1715. His wife Tess (have you ever met a "Tess?"), played by a relentlessly scowling Kate Hudson, wants to divorce him because he's so immature. But despite her hatred for him, they reunite for one last score and I'm dozing off just writing this sentence. I won't waste your time with the details of the plot. The epic ten-minute sequence in which McConaughey and Hudson explain the history of the treasure is so poorly conceived, so talky, so dry, so dull, that I'm fairly certain sitting through it rendered me impotent. I won't subject you to the same fate.

Hudson and McConaughey are attractive, moderately talented people, but they create a gaping black hole of chemistry nothingness here. Hudson repeatedly comments on McConaughey's amazing sexual prowess, but it's hard to believe they've even shook hands before. Watching these two "romance" each other, you'd swear that right before each scene Hudson turned to McConaughey and whispered "I have the worst diarrhea." Then McConaughey responded "You look exactly like my sister." Then director Andy Tennant shouted "Okay, you two both have herpes...and...action!" I've experienced more romantic sizzle with my desk lamp. And I don't even like my desk lamp.

I'd call Fool's Gold the worst movie of the year, and it certainly is, but that really doesn't make as strong a point as I'd like. It's only February after all. So I'll say it's the worst movie in a couple years. Please don't see it. Do something more fun with your time. You know, like jamming a piece of barbed wire into your urethra.

Valentine's Day Challenge

Whether you celebrate this day officially or not.... whether you have a significant other or not....

Today is supposedly dedicated to love, not greeting cards. And most of the love in your life isn't romantic.... I mean, you (hopefully) only have romantic love for one person. But what about your kids, your best friend, your mom?

So pick any person in your life -- your lover, your little brother, your boss, the girl who works at the lunch counter-- and just tell that person you appreciate them. That's it.

Appreciation goes a hell of a lot further than a box of chocolates.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Valentine's Day Massacure Update

BFF has exceeded her fund raising goal of $500, she is up to $585, in less than 24 hours. Looks like she'll be bald by this time tomorrow.

I am so proud of her, she is truly the most wonderful, loving, funny, generous, loyal, kickass person I have ever known. She inspires me, and clearly she is inspiring others.

And if anyone from this site had anything to do with her fundraising success, I thank you with all my heart.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Check this out

Ok, you know how on 99% of the blogs in the universe, the writer has enough technical savvy to say, "Click here for more info", and the word "here" is a different colour, and when you click on it, it's actually a link?

Yeah, umm, I don't get how to do that. Once upon a time, my BFF sent me an email with easy step by step instructions on how to achieve this feat of modern communication. I promptly lost the email.

So no, I'm not going to ask you to click "here", but I am going to ask you to wander over to the right hand side of the screen to Irma's Picks and link into Butterscotch Palace to see what she's up to. She is willing to shave off all of her long, gorgeous, naturally curly hair for the "Valentine's Hair Massacure". All the money will be split between pediatric oncology at her local children's hospital and the Make A Wish Foundation, and all the hair goes to Locks of Love.

And she has less than two days to reach her goal of $500.00

Just saying.

I'm not asking you guys for money, I'm just asking you to go have a peek and see if this is something you'd like to support. Thanks for looking!

Friday, February 8, 2008

Leaving on a jet plane

This evening I looked out my livingroom window, and saw a plane crossing my night sky, its bright lights so pretty in the dark.

Someone on that plane is glad to be going home after a business trip.
Someone on that plane is going home to a loveless marriage.
Someone on that plane is leaving on a well earned vacation.
Someone on that plane is going to a funeral that is breaking their heart.
Someone on that plane is terrified of flying.
Someone on that plane is making a duty visit to their family.
Someone on that plane is reading a book they have looked forward to.
Someone on that plane is trying to get their baby to stop crying.
Someone on that plane is heartbroken that this trip didn't go as planned.
Someone on that plane is asleep.
Someone on that plane is getting shitfaced.
Someone on that plane is worried about making their connecting flight.
Someone on that plane needs to pee.
Someone on that plane feels free.

Everybody has a story that would break your heart.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Democratic Race

Can't. Talk.



Super Tuesday.

Husbandly One and I are Canadians, living in Canada. So why are we so obsessed with this? I mean, we have been waiting for today the same way I waited for the last Harry Potter book. It is 7 pm in my corner of the world, and Husbandly One just called me from work, feverishly looking for an update. He had just checked the TV in our staff lounge five minutes before, mind you, but he was desperate to see if I knew anything new.

Oh, come home soon, darling. There are many hourse of exciting TV waiting for you....

And why the HELL can't Canadian politics be this gripping?

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Two unrelated topics

One: Watching the Superbowl in Canada SUCKS.

All the nice viewers south of the border get to see the new, amazing Superbowl Commercials. (You know, the only reason most people watch the game.) But here in Canada, we have a better way, we have a thing called Canadian Content. So while Americans were watching the funniest, edgiest ads, I was watching ads for an area carpet installer and our local news.

Normally I (nominally) support the aims of Canadian content, but in the case of the Superbowl, they remove the only reason I watch. I will not be tuning in again next year, and I hope other Canadians will join me. So there.

Two: The weather.

There's a guy at work, Norm, who is our weather guru. In addition to working full time, he is a farmer with many years experience under his belt, and whenever any of us want weather predictions, we go to him. He isn't always right, but he's right often enough to keep us coming back for more.

Norm informs me that the almanac (which he studies and puts a great deal of creedance in) is predicting the mother of all snow storms for around the middle of February, and we could receive up to nine feet of snow.

Yes yes, go back and read that again. I said nine FEET.

Time for something we call Context. Do I think there are nine feet of snow coming? Absolutely not. Do I think that, based on the word of some guy at work, something bad is coming? Absolutely.

In the last week, thinking about this storm has become my new obsession. What will happen if we can't leave the house? What will happen if the power goes out for three days? How will I feed not only Husbandly One and me, how will I feed our pets?

Well, this weekend I made a few shopping excursions, and I now know I am prepared for anything. Extra pet food is stored in the basement. There are now logs for the fireplace. I can now feed myself and Husbandly One, without power, for three days. And nothing that I bought isn't something I wouldn't eventually use in our every day lives, so I didn't "waste" money.

What I'm trying to get at is just this: If you live in Canada (or the Northern US), you need to be ready for anything in the winter. I was horrified by my own ineptitude for storm preparedness, and amazed by how easy it was to get ready once I made up my mind to do so.

So please, do yourself a favour. Go open your pantry, and ask yourself how you would feed your family (and pets) if you had no power for three days. And ask yourself how you would heat the house. And failing all that, ask yourself where you could go that was safe.

Love to all.