Monday, August 20, 2012

she's taking a break.....she needs a break.

If you can name the movie the title of this post is from then you win the big prize!

Name that movie!

Soooo..........I'm taking a break from the blogging, as you can tell.

I'm just not so sure anymore.......

Maybe it's the summer. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just me being moody. I think for August I'll be done and see how I feel in September.

Have a great couple of weeks until the dreaded 's' word starts.

Seriously though, name the movie.

Friday, August 10, 2012

russian polygamist gypsies

It's Friday. Again. How does it get to Friday so fast? You would think it's a good thing but it's really not when you look back at the week and wonder what the heck you did all week.

Hmmm, let's see. Yep, that's what I thought. I did nothing.

It's hot outside, yo. And as much as I like the heat when I'm on holidays it turns out I'm one gigantic baby when it comes to being baked inside my house all day.

Go outside? Are you insane? It's really hot outside. Why would I do that? Besides the fact that this family of mine is so lazy it's a bit humiliating actually. We really need to be more active but alas.....

So this is what kept my mind occupied this week:

The landscaping at the temple is seriously underway and I can hear the big machines moving all day long. I can't wait until it's done, it will be so beautiful. And quiet.

I spent no less than 9 hours trying to organize my university schedule. It was hard and exhausting. And it was for only TWO classes. I don't remember registering for school to be so time consuming and the days of yore.

I was having a hard time picking the classes that fit in the Intercultural requirement. Turns out I need 4 and the choices were not my cup of tea, which would explain why I need so many. I have already taken all the 'extra' courses that interest me. Now all that's left is the mandatory communication courses and this intercultural stuff.

So...a few weeks ago I picked some classes that fit the schedule pretty well and then let it bother me for weeks that I wasn't excited about either of them. This week I sat back down and stared at the computer endlessly researching every choice I had and being disappointed with them all.

Canadian studies? Really now. No thanks. The History of Taiwan? Why does such a class even exist?

No offense to Taiwan.

I do have the option of learning another language but I dismissed it because......

I don't know what that because is. Because it's every single week day. And I was trying to avoid that. Being a part time student, in my mind, did not involve going to the university every single day.

But, apparently it does, because I am learning Italian. And, well, I'll be. I am freaking excited about it.

In 2007, the man and I went to Italy and it was there that I decided that learning Italian would be the coolest thing ever. I stuck it on my bucket list. So I'm not sure why I pushed the opportunity away when it was thrown at me and stared me in the face and gave me the stink eye while I researched taking The Age of Totalitarianism.

What was I thinking?

So I changed the schedule. I do have to go every single day but I get to learn Italian which will most likely give me an air of mystique that will intrigue people more so than my mystique-y air-y-ness already does.

And I'm excited, which is sort of the point, is it not?

Anyway, I wasn't even going to tell you about that but it just slipped out.

My laptop is doing this thing where the cursor jumps around while I'm typing and my sentences get all jumbled and it's not only confusing but really aggravating and I want it to just fix itself so I stop raging.

The other night I was called in to see a member of our Bishopric to get a new calling (job at church). I hate new calling day. Everyone spends new calling day praying for a calling they want and not a calling they know they hate.

Once again, God is sticking it to me because I was asked to do the calling I have hated most in my life to date. I can't say what it is yet but I can say that when he asked me to do it I could hardly contain my physical response. My head rolled back and my face went all ragey and I fought back the urge to scream,


And then I said yes. I would never say no to a calling but man oh man, may heaven have mercy, I could not hide how I felt about it.

And then, to kick me while I was down and make me feel about 2 inches tall, he asked me to speak in church in Sunday. You'll never guess the topic.

Yep, humility. That's right. Message received.

Loud and clear.

I have this friend named Jessica, or Jess. We met when she moved here in grade 7. She introduced me to Cadbury Mini Eggs back in the day when you could only get them at Easter.

She writes this quirky little blog and today it made me laugh real hard-like at 7:15am. I'm not sure how she swings it but she lives a life that leaves her with the best stories to tell. She takes the best trips. She builds the coolest houses and she may be the only person who moves as much as I do. She's a whirlwind of entertainment.

Today, in her blog, in an oh so casual sort of way, she told a story about how she was driving along with her family in the mountains and decided to stop at a remote hot pool and who just happened to be there? But a group of Russian Polygamist Gypsies. And she said it like "oh...look who's here? It's those Russian Polygamist Gypsies we all hear so much about."

I mean, seriously??

Only Jess.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

once there was a standoff...

So the other day I noticed some police cars sitting in the parking lot of the church across the street from my house. I thought nothing of it.

And then I lost my voice and was overcome with a fatigue so complete I thought I was asleep when really I was awake.

And then I had to go to Ghost Dam and pick up the man and it was all I could do to not fold in on myself and scream 'uncle' to the sleep Gods.

Upon reentering my house I asked him to make food for the children, he inquired about all the police cars and now a fire truck and a giant motor home type police mobile unit thingy across the street. I responded, in a sexy and sultry yet slightly husky voice, with a flippant "I don't know, maybe it's a standoff," and then I dragged my sorry butt up to bed where I promptly succumbed to sleep even if it was only for one hour. You see, I can't even nap right.

Later, the man came up and said a friend had called and said he saw on the news that there was a standoff nearby.

Well, of course there was. And I knew exactly where it was since I had been watching it all day. Never mind the fact that as far as standoffs go this one was lackluster at best. So I came downstairs with my iPhone and decided to pay closer attention since I had verifiable proof that a standoff was in fact happening.

I decided to live tweet and facebook the event since I was pretty sure that in not doing so I would grow old and die with regret.

So I watched and I watched and I had a few thoughts:
- if this was in fact a serious standoff wouldn't the police seem a little more...I don't know, serious? Instead of all the "hanging out" they were doing?
- if this was a serious standoff, wouldn't the police ask the guy with the kid on the pink bike with training wheels to maybe take it elsewhere?
- if this was a serious standoff would they let people walk their dogs within distance of getting their heads blown off?
-wouldn't there be a swat team or something equally as cool?

After I started to doubt this alleged standoffs existence I decided to check the news. After all, isn't that what serious reporters do? They make broad announcements all over the interwebs and then check their facts? All the local news had ended so I had the man check online for some info. He read to me what he found and the info he read told me that either the news people had their location wrong or the standoff was in fact NOT at the church but close by and the church was the staging area.

Oh brother.

And then there was a super cranky, detail obsessed, anal retentive woman on twitter who was so hung up on my wrong details that she made sure I knew it every 2 seconds until I called twitter 'uncle' and begged her to relax. At which point she did, thank the heavens. Who has that kind of energy anyway?

So I called off the live tweeting because there was nothing going on from my vantage point. Which is a borderline tragedy. It isn't everyday you get to live tweet a standoff.

And then I reminisced about the time when I was a kid and one morning my mum told me that our neigbour two doors down had sniper shot his wife through her windshield as she was coming home the night before. He then hid out in his house until the swat team tear gassed him out after a standoff with police.

And I was perturbed because she let us sleep through that.

And now I wonder why the standoff Gods keep me away from all the excitement. Is there no justice?

Monday, August 6, 2012

life's greatest question

Holiday Mondays don't mean the same for me as they mean for you. And this is why....

Last night the man was answering emails and then he turned to me and said, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

He never asks me this because I think he typically knows what I am doing at any given time. And due to my not secret disdain for busy, crowded places, especially busy, crowded places on really hot days, it's a safe bet I will be at home, where it's only slightly crowded.

And hot.

I didn't respond fast enough to his inquiry for his liking and I think I mumbled out a question, mostly taken off guard by his inquisitiveness into my daily happenings, and said something like, "why do you ask?"

To which he responded with, "I think I'm going to go to work." Like there was any doubt as to where the man was going to be today.

At this point he got up and went to bed. After which ensued a really irritating texting convo I won't bore you with.

The point being, and who I am kidding, there is no point but regardless, I found it weird that he asked me my plans and that he also announced he would be working. So my super sleuth senses started to tingle and I wondered what the root of this conversation was.

The root is simple, he is working because he can and because he hasn't worked since Thursday.

So why all the chit chat? Don't ask me because I simply don't know.

What I do know is that on Saturday I had a day off from work. Amelia said, "A day off from what work?" I sighed and maybe rolled my eyes. Yes, I rolled my eyes. I then began the planning of how much I could cram into one day and how long I could stay away before the people sent out a search party.

I gave two instructions to the man before I left for my day.

One, pack the tent into the bag for me.

This is how I camp. I pack us all up. I set up the tent. I camp with kids alone for days. I throw everything into the truck and return home where I proceed to do 20 loads of laundry. What? You don't believe me? probably shouldn't. It was more like 7. Or 20.

The man always packs the tent away for me. He's good that way and saves me the serious headache of trying to maneuver the tent back into the too small bag it came in.

So that was the first instruction. Which didn't happen.

The second was to keep the freshly cleaned kitchen clean. I cleaned it. It was clean. Just keep it that way.

Now the tent? That may have been asking too much but he agreed so I went with it. But the kitchen? Keeping an already clean kitchen clean? Come on now.......

He had the boys unload the dishwasher. It was empty. And every plate and cup and utensil we owned was either in the sink or on the counter.

Okay, again with the over exaggeration. Not every single plate and cup and utensil. It may as well have been though. It was a disaster.

Now not that it was all his fault. I did come home and get him and take him on a date with me. So he wasn't here but the children were and they were doing their darndest to aggravate me with the undoing of my clean kitchen.

Where am I going with this? Well, lets see. I am going insane with this. Trying to find the fine line between doing my job as mommy and housewife and being dumped upon with disregard and dis-courteousness is hard. It's chore unto itself.

The line is fine. So fine I think it's made of fishing wire. No one can see it but me. But that's because I am the only one paying attention.

And this, my friends, is life's greatest question. Not where did we come from? Or where are we going? Or how are babies made? Or why is the tent so hard to get back into the bag? Or are overalls cool again?

It's 'why am I the only one paying attention around here?' Asked by yours truly. Every single day of my life.

There is no garbage bag in the garbage so instead of putting one in let's just dump our garbage all over. Someone will come and clean it up.

I want microwave popcorn so instead of unwrapping it and and throwing the plastic out I will leave it here on the counter and someone will come over here and clean it up.

Instead of hanging my wet towel on one of the two racks that someone has lovingly provided I will leave it on the floor and someone will come and hang it up.

Instead of putting my shoes on one of the numerous shoe racks in the house that someone has so strategically placed for the convenience of others I will leave them on the floor and then yell at the dog when she eats them.

Well that someone has something to say on the matter. And it's going to be said in a family meeting this evening. And it's going to accomplish one of two things. Either the people in this house will start to "pay attention" and do their share or a certain someone will be spending a lot less time cooking food she doesn't eat and washing clothes she doesn't wear and cleaning up the popcorn mess of which she did not eat one single kernel. That someone will be spending more time reading her book and writing her book and doing what she wants since doing what we want seems to be the acceptable form of behaviour around this particular establishment.

I will keep you posted. But in the meantime, here is some food for thought. Overalls are not cool or cute and in all honesty, never were. Unless you are under two and they are corduroy and say something like Osh Kosh on them.

Carry on.

Post edit: as I was writing this very post the man came home from work to get a tool and while he was here, without being asked, he put the tent into its too small bag. He wasn't asked or reminded. He just did it. So although it's two days late it's done and I don't feel like strangling him with the fine line. Anymore. For awhile, anyway. Until I trip on that fine line again, which I expect to happen at any moment........

Friday, August 3, 2012

end of camping thoughts on a friday and such

It's Friday today. Who knew? You probably knew. Time doesn't exist when I am camping with the kids. I have missed the camping so much. We missed the last two summers because of a little nightmare called Willacy. Remember Willacy? Well, don't. We're moving on.

I think, if there was no bickering ever, I could camp endlessly. Endless amounts of camping. In a beautiful spot with a beautiful lake. Some food and some friends and some books and I would be good for a very long time. But maybe I would need more opportunity to shower my body if I was somewhere for an extended period of time.

It is here I would normally mention that Wasa has no showers and so I didn't shower for over a week and it was gross.

But I wouldn't want you to know that about me so I won't mention it.

I mean, I did clean myself. Just not traditionally. And since the man wasn't with me I didn't bother shaving. At all. Ever.

It reminded me of the time I worked at a Young Offender Wilderness camp for a month. Talk about grungy and dirty and all kinds of foul. Except then I came home every 5 days to shower and clean up.

At Wasa......nope. Just real outback kind of dirty.

It was liberating. And awesome. Try it.

Or don't. Whatever, I don't care,

I'm off the rails, as per usual. Anyway, I get so lost in time. The days melt into each other. The same routine, if you want it. Or not, if that's what you want. No schedule, no deadlines, no one telling you you have to be somewhere.

It's glorious.

We had a great time. I think, though, my kids are getting to that age where just being with me all the time isn't working for them. I force my kids to spend a lot of time together and it used to be great. But now I am seeing that they need more than just me and each other. They get tired of each other. Bored. I may need to coerce another family to come with me next year.

I love my kids but I feel their pain with all the togetherness. I think I have spent entirely too much time alone with them this summer. We could all use a break. I am taking one tomorrow. They have all been informed.

I missed the man tons. Like a lot.We didn't speak once while I was gone. We texted lots but not hearing his voice does all kinds of crazy things to my brain. I have bad dreams about him flaunting his new $1100 tattoo at church. These dreams make me wake at all crazy hours of the night fuming mad.

(He does not have tattoos, mum. No need to worry.)

When I texted him to tell him how angry I was that he would get a full back tattoo of a Popeye anchor and not tell me, he texted back and said not to worry, he would never get an anchor tattoo.

He would have got the Hamburglar instead.

My tent is so tall that even on my tippy toes I can not reach the roof. I know you were wondering, just too polite to ask.

I did not miss the puppy though, not one little bit. In fact, I never swore once, in my head or out loud the entire time I was gone. Since I've been home I am feeling all trucker talk urges returning to my soul.

This doggy is beeping annoying. Beepity beep beep beep.

I'm sad about how fast the summer is going but I think it's only because once September hits things are going to explode into a chaotic, frenzied, whirlwind of craziness around here. It scares me a little wondering if I will be able to get everything done and still have the house standing at the end of the day.

If you are wondering about my opinion on the book Outlander, and I know the majority of you are dying to know, this is it, in a nutshell:

Although it was the silliest book I have ever read in my entire life, I will admit to being 100% entertained 85% of the time. The day I finished it I did walk, in all my shame, into the book store and buy book number 2.

Yes, I did. I am sorry. And embarrassed. But it's summer. Silly reads on the beach are how it rolls, are they not?

If you read it, you will start to hear all your thoughts in a Scottish accent. And if you are anything like me then you will start to voice those thoughts out loud but you'll sound more like a pirate than a Scotsman. And when the cashier asks you "is that all?" and you respond with an "Aye..." then you'll know it's time to take a break and maybe find another grown up to talk to.

That is all I am going to say on the matter.

Talk about reading....I think this kid of mine knows how to do it right. She was living the dream whilst camping.

My dream........

She has a hard life, no?