Do you sit back and wonder why life can be so crazy one day, and then suddenly it all just slows to a crawl? By 'all' I mean 'everything'. The kid stops whining, the dog stops puking, the hubby is picking up his stuff, and neither whining nor puking. It's at those moments I realize that I am a slave to my family and it's whims. Don't get me wrong, I am high maintenance myself thank you kindly, but it does get tough having three divas plus a spoiled dog all living under one roof. I figure at this rate, the only one likely to make it out alive is the kid when she goes off to university.
But back to the momentary peace; it is at this time I get to look around and re-examine what the heck is going on in this house. I have just recently spied on many many bees buzzing in and out of an overhang above the french doors leading outside from the home office. This is not good. If you read my blog you will know I have this quiet fascination with bee-keeping. But this is NOT how I want it to happen.
I have gone ahead and asked he-who-wishes-to-be-obeyed-but-will-forever-be-disappointed to look into this potentially nasty issue. You see, it is that their newly chosen home also leads to the storage area of the upstairs television room. Yep, that's right ladies and gents, the room that I just dumped slightly over a 'G' note into re-doing and yet again it has some sort of issue that needs to be addressed.
So I have asked Adam to investigate. I will tell you more once that happens. I asked on Friday. I'm just sayin.
As far as the kid goes...well, she's a teen. I suppose she and I will come to some sort of understanding at about the time she leaves for university. Oh joy. So I patiently wait and spend the next few years anxiously wanting to re-connect with her and enjoy her for every little thing that she is. But apparently it is not until her hormones stop raging that she will become normal again. So I am to understand that at the same times she is starting to become 'normal' again, she will be turning around to hug and kiss me good-bye to go to school. Lovely. I don't remember being told about that at the 'gonna be a mum' sign in.
And the dog? Well, he is an idiot. Oh he is sweet and warm and fluffy and lovely to be sure, but he is mentally deficient. No disrespect to anyone elses'es cock-a-poo, but this guy alternates from looking greatly confused to looking slightly lost. No in between. Well except when he's puking. Then he just looks sad. Yes, yes, I have taken him to the vets. He is just a puker. Fait accompli. Or fait accompuke as the case may be.
So I am going to take my day of rest, say a little prayer to my God in thanks, and try to attack the bedroom without going on further with my own brand of whining.
The suns gotta shine on a dogs arse once in a while. 'Suppose today's my day. ;-)
Ciao bellas,
~tm
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Adam is stealing my dog!!!
I think my partner is stealing my dog. All of a sudden Charlie Tuna is sleeping on Adam's side of the bed. Hanging out with Adam on the couch. Looking to Adam when he wants to go outside. I just want to know...
Why you steal my dog Adam???
I mean, it's not like you even like him all that much. You complain when he wants to go out. You complain when he wants to come in. You bitch endlessly about the fact that he sleeps on the bed with us. You don't have 'daddy-vision' yet so there have been times you've forgotten he is at the bottom of the bed and have rolled over on him in the middle of the night. When we get into a pissing match you only 'sometimes' take him with you on a 'cool out' walk. The same damn route you take him on nightly anyway! Are you trying to make your point that 'you are really mad' to me...or the dog????
So why you steal my dogs affections?
Is it because he has finally found success in lulling you into a false sense of security through those weird acid-eyes? Or is it that the little boy inside of you has finally broken through and now openly revels in the pure joy that bubbles up when getting your toes licked by the fluffy little dog? For the record, yeah it's weird, and yeah LOTS of people like it too.
You constantly call him a 'cat in a dog suit' and complain to everyone how he has to be touching you wherever you sit in the house.
Yet you are becoming curiously close to the little man.
You know, for a guy who never had any pets I have to wonder why you don't just embrace the freedom and get your own 'normal-size' dog? Charlie is an opportunist and just because you give him more treats than I do does not mean he won't turn on you as soon as I start to play the oneupmansip game.
But I won't do that. I would rather you just steal the damn dog. That way I know he is being loved even more. Sometimes, when you don't think anyone is watching you, we have witnessed you petting the dog, playing with the dog, and even wiping his feet gently after being outside in the rain. You are falling in love with the little man and you hate that it is starting to show. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone. You just go ahead and steal my little dog.
After all, this way it makes it way easier for me to go to the pound, and bring another one home.
~tm
Why you steal my dog Adam???
I mean, it's not like you even like him all that much. You complain when he wants to go out. You complain when he wants to come in. You bitch endlessly about the fact that he sleeps on the bed with us. You don't have 'daddy-vision' yet so there have been times you've forgotten he is at the bottom of the bed and have rolled over on him in the middle of the night. When we get into a pissing match you only 'sometimes' take him with you on a 'cool out' walk. The same damn route you take him on nightly anyway! Are you trying to make your point that 'you are really mad' to me...or the dog????
So why you steal my dogs affections?
Is it because he has finally found success in lulling you into a false sense of security through those weird acid-eyes? Or is it that the little boy inside of you has finally broken through and now openly revels in the pure joy that bubbles up when getting your toes licked by the fluffy little dog? For the record, yeah it's weird, and yeah LOTS of people like it too.
You constantly call him a 'cat in a dog suit' and complain to everyone how he has to be touching you wherever you sit in the house.
Yet you are becoming curiously close to the little man.
You know, for a guy who never had any pets I have to wonder why you don't just embrace the freedom and get your own 'normal-size' dog? Charlie is an opportunist and just because you give him more treats than I do does not mean he won't turn on you as soon as I start to play the oneupmansip game.
But I won't do that. I would rather you just steal the damn dog. That way I know he is being loved even more. Sometimes, when you don't think anyone is watching you, we have witnessed you petting the dog, playing with the dog, and even wiping his feet gently after being outside in the rain. You are falling in love with the little man and you hate that it is starting to show. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone. You just go ahead and steal my little dog.
After all, this way it makes it way easier for me to go to the pound, and bring another one home.
~tm
Monday, August 17, 2009
Canada is NOT the 'Great White North'
Without trying to offend anyone I gotta tell you, Canada is not the cold snowy tundra that a lot of people on this big blue marble thinks it is. In my area of this great land we have three seasons; winter, summer, and ridiculously stinking hot. But if you are anything like me, there IS a plus to the horror.
I live in what is essentially a pit created by either a meteor, or the lumbering, scraping, remnants of some gigantic icebergs from millions of years ago. I live in the bottom of that massive pit. Why am I telling you this? Because this pit, and more specifically, the actions that created it, did some pretty amazing things to the land.
First off, we have the Great Lakes. Really, 'nuff said. Cause how amazing are they?
Now for the good part, southern Ontario has some of the best soil in the world for agriculture, and more importantly to me, for grape growing. Rivaling the mucky mucks in France, California, Italy, and Australia we CAN grow pinot grapes and do quite well at it thank you very much. We truly do have some of the best wine in the world.
But because of this, Mother Nature has had to balance the scales between the good, and the bad. Why? She's Mother-Freaking-Nature I guess, I don't know why.
It is her sense of fairness, but not necessarily equity, that her wicked sense of humour has commanded "You will live in 7 to 9 months of cold every year, but in those precious few warm months I will make it so that some of the most wonderful wine can be extracted from grapes you shall grow. Grapes that other regions would die to have so readily grown'.
Thanks Mother Nature, but, now we gotta get to the humidity part of the program. 'Cause for me, the humidity is what drives me insane every summer.
Back to the bottom of the pit. And yes, I know I jump, but seriously, you gotta keep up with me 'cause if you think you are having problems with my writing, try talking to me for a while. So the pit...because of my geographic placement in Southern Ontario (the aforementioned pit bottom) that humidity is such a great concern. It's like the fricken rain forest in my backyard, and worse of all, my HOUSE. I think I may have even seen geckos running across my ceiling last night. Trust me, we have some wicked moisture issues in my home.
I have no central air. Just a bunch of ceiling fans. To coin a euphemism used quite often by my ex-husband; I am sweating my bag off in there. Figuratively, and I suppose literally, if we want to be cutesy about it. It's a hundred year old home, CA is not an option right now. Sweating rivers apparently is. Anyway...
I live in a humid, central-airless house, at the bottom of a pit with nothing but a few sad ceiling fans to move around the hot air. Is there any good to this blog at all Tina?
Damn straight! I get through the horror quite fine with some of the juiciest, chewiest, yummiest, red wines straight from my own area. Snowy Great White North? Yeah, trust me, only in my dreams.
~tm
I live in what is essentially a pit created by either a meteor, or the lumbering, scraping, remnants of some gigantic icebergs from millions of years ago. I live in the bottom of that massive pit. Why am I telling you this? Because this pit, and more specifically, the actions that created it, did some pretty amazing things to the land.
First off, we have the Great Lakes. Really, 'nuff said. Cause how amazing are they?
Now for the good part, southern Ontario has some of the best soil in the world for agriculture, and more importantly to me, for grape growing. Rivaling the mucky mucks in France, California, Italy, and Australia we CAN grow pinot grapes and do quite well at it thank you very much. We truly do have some of the best wine in the world.
But because of this, Mother Nature has had to balance the scales between the good, and the bad. Why? She's Mother-Freaking-Nature I guess, I don't know why.
It is her sense of fairness, but not necessarily equity, that her wicked sense of humour has commanded "You will live in 7 to 9 months of cold every year, but in those precious few warm months I will make it so that some of the most wonderful wine can be extracted from grapes you shall grow. Grapes that other regions would die to have so readily grown'.
Thanks Mother Nature, but, now we gotta get to the humidity part of the program. 'Cause for me, the humidity is what drives me insane every summer.
Back to the bottom of the pit. And yes, I know I jump, but seriously, you gotta keep up with me 'cause if you think you are having problems with my writing, try talking to me for a while. So the pit...because of my geographic placement in Southern Ontario (the aforementioned pit bottom) that humidity is such a great concern. It's like the fricken rain forest in my backyard, and worse of all, my HOUSE. I think I may have even seen geckos running across my ceiling last night. Trust me, we have some wicked moisture issues in my home.
I have no central air. Just a bunch of ceiling fans. To coin a euphemism used quite often by my ex-husband; I am sweating my bag off in there. Figuratively, and I suppose literally, if we want to be cutesy about it. It's a hundred year old home, CA is not an option right now. Sweating rivers apparently is. Anyway...
I live in a humid, central-airless house, at the bottom of a pit with nothing but a few sad ceiling fans to move around the hot air. Is there any good to this blog at all Tina?
Damn straight! I get through the horror quite fine with some of the juiciest, chewiest, yummiest, red wines straight from my own area. Snowy Great White North? Yeah, trust me, only in my dreams.
~tm
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees
I should NOT have run into this website online: http://www.omlet.co.uk/products_services/products_services.php?view=Bees
Okay, here is the deal, I read ‘The Secret Life of Bees’ and I loved it. Two words my friend A – MAZING!
So I am surfing and I find these totally cool, totally urban beehives. I’ve only one thing to say…I think Adam may kill me.
~tm
Okay, here is the deal, I read ‘The Secret Life of Bees’ and I loved it. Two words my friend A – MAZING!
So I am surfing and I find these totally cool, totally urban beehives. I’ve only one thing to say…I think Adam may kill me.
~tm
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