Archive for March, 2006

Athena meets Ranger and Morelli.

When I was up north, my grandmother handed me a book and said something like "I don't know if you like this kind of stuff but it was a good book." I read the back jacket and thought it wasn't my usual fare, but I would try it on for size. I brought the book home with me and cracked it open after being home for a few days. Grammy had also given me another book by the same author.

That was the beginning of my downward spiral. Or mid-life crisis. I'm not sure what to call it. Read the rest of this entry »

Comments (2)

The New Math (for parents of sick children)

Parent A has two children, X and Y. Parent B is also the parent of these children.

Child Y has a fever. Parent A would like to get as much sleep as possible.
Parent A can give Child Y ibuprofen, which lasts for 8 hours at a time or acetominophen which lasts for 4 hours.

If Child Y has had acetominophen at 2:00 pm and goes to bed at 7:00 pm, what combination of acetominophen and/or ibuprofen should Parent A give to Child Y?

Read the rest of this entry »

Comments off

Some Funny Stuff Here

I went looking for Justice League stuff today on the internet. Yes, that’s the Justice League. As in Wonder Woman, Batman, Flash, Superman, et al.

I found these quotes on the IMDB. Funny stuff if you’re at all familiar with the cartoon.

I really like the Justice League. I can’t explain why. It’s certainly changed over the years. It’s not the Superfriends that I grew up with. But it’s still cool. And it’s the theme of one of our birthday parties this year. Hence the search.

Comments (1)

Jeans, part 2

Okay, I found new jeans. At Old Navy. But they’re not quite perfect.

I chose this Old Navy store because it’s in a small town north of ours and I figured they didn’t get as many shoppers as the other stores I’ve visited, just based on geography.

I found one pair. They’re a size 10 long. I’m a size 10 short. Hee hee. Wee bit of hemming to do there but I’ll take them to the cleaners and get them altered.

As for the other pair…well, I committed the worst sin possible when it comes to buying jeans. I bought jeans that don’t fit. They’re too small. But, before you go rolling your eyes and shaking your head, I have to add, they’re just a wee bit too small. Like, “give me a month and I’ll fit into them” kind of small. That’s right folks, you heard it here. One month.

In my own defense, I was desperate! DESPERATE! Oh, and they were on sale for $9.99, regularly $39.50. So really, if I can’t fit into them in one month, what have I lost? Obviously not the 2 pounds I needed to fit into them.

After finishing my jeans shopping, I passed a kids store. They had kids jeans on sale, 2 pairs for $20. I picked up 4 pairs for my son. 2 for this year, 2 for next year. I was in and out of that store in less than 15 minutes. What kind of a cruel twist of irony is that? Cruel, cruel, cruel….

Comments off

Jeans, goddamned jeans.

I remember reading somewhere that on average, a woman tries on 16 pairs of jeans/pants before she finds a pair that fit.

Well, I worked on my average today. I tried on 12 pairs of jeans and didn’t buy any of them. But I totally felt depressed and frustrated by the time I was done so I guess something was accomplished and my time wasn’t completely wasted.???!!!

Some cruel cosmic force in the universe has decided that out of the 5 pairs of jeans I own (an all time high number, I must admit), 4 of them have decided that they should rip. All of them have ripped in the knee. A few others are wearing in the crotchular region. Yes, I know, “crotchular” isn’t a word, but it’s an inside joke. Why they are wearing through in the crotchular region is beyond me. I’ve never had it happen before and I haven’t changed my crotchular habits.

When I discovered the first rip, I headed over to Old Navy to buy me some jeans. I have previously found 2 different styles there that fit me perfectly. Those are 2 pair of the 4 that are ripped now. I figured I could just replace them. WRONG! Old Navy is no longer carrying those styles. They’ve replaced them with…wait for it…wait for it….ripped jeans. RIPPED JEANS!! Jeans that are already torn, before you even wear them!!!!!!! Ugh.

Tried the Gap. I refuse to pay $70 or more for jeans. And besides, everytime I’ve shopped at the Gap for jeans, they never fit me.
Next stop: Roots. Uh, yeah. Just because my husband bought a pair there, it doesn’t mean I can find a pair there that fit me.
The Bay. They’re having a denim sale. Surely I can find a pair there. Lee Jeans (“find your fit”) = nope. Calvin Klein = nope. Something Bleu = nope. Next stop? You mean I am not finished yet? I’ve been to 2 malls and 8 stores looking for jeans. I was done for the day. Day 2 of this quest begins tomorrow.

One of the biggest fit issues I have is around the waist. I have an hourglass figure. No, really. I do. There’s 10 inches difference between my hips/waist/bust. So, for example, I could be 24/34/24. I’m not, but you see where the 10 inches is, in case you didn’t know what I meant by hourglass. Well apparently, if your hips/butt are a certain size, your waist can’t possibly be smaller than them. Not according to the pants I tried on anyway. They all had this HUGE gap at the back. I swear I could fit my 3 year old in there with me. They just don’t fit at the waist. I tried on smaller sizes. They still had the gap at the back. I tried on sizes so small my butt didn’t fit into them. And I still had that gap at the back. It was ridiculous.

I know I’m not the only person with this problem. I watch What Not To Wear. I’ve seen their guests/contestants/whatever they’re called, try on jeans and have the same problem. Stacy and Clinton say, “get your jeans tailored”. Forget that, I say. Jeans should be made to fit. They used to be that way. What has happened to the designers that they think everyone’s ass and waist are the same size? Okay, yes, I did see some women who would have fit nicely into those jeans I tried on, but they were exceptions. How many women do you see who have a waist the same size as their hips? I also saw some women (much larger than I am) who bought those jeans I tried on, and they shouldn’t have. I don’t want to see your ass crack when you bend over honey. I don’t want to see the colour/pattern on your thong. You shouldn’t even be wearing a thong honey. They make thongs that big?

Comments (1)

Fallen off the face of the earth….

Well, I didn’t quite fall off the face of the earth. But almost. I was here:

 The LaneThis is the “road” to the house I stayed at. Aka, “the lane”.
 Driveway in WinterThe driveway to the house.
 The Lake in WinterOverlooking the lake.

No internet. No computer. No cell phone signal unless I got in my car and drove for an hour and a half.

Just snow. Glorious snow. Beautiful sunshine. The sound of Whiskey Jacks and Blue Jays, Chickadees and Woodpeckers. Wind stirring the tall pine trees. Beautiful sky.

I love it up there. I really do.

It was a fun trip. The drive up there only took us 7.5 hours. We did stop for a full hour. It was just myself and the kids. The kids were *amazing* travellers. We don’t believe in the portable DVD player, in vehicles. They kept themselves amused with books, books on tape/cd, music cds, and their Leap Pads. I do have to admit though, that at times I totally used the “moose/deer crossing” signs to steer them away from teasing each other. I would just call out “moose crossing!” and they would immediately stop what they were doing and start looking for moose. Or whatever else the sign said. In one case it was falling rocks. You do what you have to do….

There was a tonne of snow for the kids to play in. One of the things that I love about that place in winter is that I can just leave the kids outside and not worry at all. They don’t go far and with the lake being frozen, I don’t have to worry about water danger like I do in the summer.

We made a snow-fort of sorts, used snow shoes, and climbed over the mountains of snow that the tractor had made. Then we went for walks in the laneway where there were even higher mountains of snow. Only 3 or 4 houses/cottages on the lane have permanent, year-round residents. They actually take turns plowing the lane with a loader. Yes, you read that correctly – a loader. Driving in the lane, I wished I had a truck. We made it all 7 hours without incident and then we got to the lane. I got stuck. 3 times. As I was trying to make it up the smallest of all hills (and going nowhere fast), I was mentally calculating where I could leave the van where it would be out of the way for other traffic, where our snowpants and heavy boots were and how the kids would feel about walking 10 mins to the house. I ended up getting up this hill and over several more and then got stuck in 6″ of very soft snow, about 20 feet down the driveway. Close enough you could taste it. It was quite ironic and comical actually. With the help of a few shovels, a John Deere tractor with a snowblowing attachment and pure willpower, we got the van close enough that I could unload it without carrying everything farther than I wanted to.

The visit was short but enjoyed by all. My grandparents are aging and I’m coming to terms with that. I figured out that my grandparents were 43 when I was born. Depending on your age, you’re probably saying, “wow” or not getting the significance of that. Now I understand how they were able to care for myself and my 2 cousins up there, every summer. I think we went up every summer until we started working – maybe younger. I’m not sure I was up there after age 13. Anyway, part of the issue I’ve had with them aging is that I always think of them as being young – 60’ish, 70’ish. Grammy turns 80 next month. That’s the average life expectancy. Or so I read somewhere. That hits a point with me.

My dad’s side of the family has certain perceptions of myself, my husband and my kids. My husband and I jokingly said that the reason Grammy and Grampy said we could come was because I was leaving my husband at home. Yes, there are issues there. It’s sad, really. Now there are walls built on both sides (him and them). And when I think of how old my grandparents are and how much time we might have left with them, I think this family stuff is all quite stupid and it makes me sad. We’re going to try and mend some fences this summer. Grammy said we should come up (all of us) for a week in the summer. She wants to enjoy the kids while they can (her words, not mine). So we’ll go and hopefully everyone will get along and I’ll get another phone call like the one I received a day after I had been home. It was my Dad, telling me that Grammy called him as soon as we had left to say we were on our way home and how much she and Grampy had enjoyed the visit.

Oh, and the ride home? Slightly more eventful. It took us 8 hours and we didn’t stop for an hour like we did on the drive up. We stopped for about 20 minutes. Intermittent bright sunny skies (damn, where are my sunglasses!?) and white-out conditions (damn! I can’t get my glasses off fast enough so I can see through this stuff!). Oh, and the kids? Not nearly as well behaved on the way home (partly due to sleep deficits from the trip) and my daughter decided she’d had quite enough about an hour away from home and she puked (and I mean PUKED!) all over herself and her carseat. She was actually sitting in a pool of vomit. And of course, we were 10 mins away from the next exit. I had to scoop the stuff off her with my bare hands. Nice way to cap off a trip, eh? Yeah, I thought so too. Now, I can laugh at it. At the time, with my son holding his nose on the highway, yelling “mommy you need to stop, this really stinks!” while I was freaking out internally and looking madly for exits, it wasn’t so funny. Hearing my husband’s exclamations as he dismantled and cleaned out the car seat – now *that* was funny too. Up until that point he had brushed off my “ooooo this was sooo gross” story of cleaning her up on the highway. He was suddenly enlightened to how icky clean up could be.

Comments (1)