Did you guys know that I have a photoblog? I do.

Did you know that my report card marks are due on Monday morning at 9 am? They are.

Did you know that marking has driven me sufficiently crazy that I am now about ready to tear my (non-existent) hair out? It has, and I am.

You know how sometimes you think “I have something to write on my blog!” and you’re totally enthusiastic about it because it’s a great subject, but you’re not near a computer, so you file it away in your mind, telling yourself “DON’T FORGET that you want to blog this!”?

And then you get near a computer, and can’t remember what it was you were so excited to blog about?

That’s what’s happening to me right now. Of course basically every single thought that crosses my mind, I tell to Rob, so I thought I would ask him if he knew what I’d been planning on blogging. You know, on the off-chance that he could remember one of my inane ramblings.

“Robbie, do you remember what it as I said I needed to blog about?”

“Yes, I do. It was balls. BALLS!”

How I could ever have forgotten that I wanted to blog about balls, I will never know. Who can forget balls? I mean… they’re BALLS, for the love of Gord! There is no forgetting balls!

And so, after the jump, my thoughts on balls.
Read the rest of this entry →

Everyone here knows how I tend to overreact occasionally, yes? Yes. Something small happens, I’m all “OH NO EVERYONE IS GOING TO DIE”. To wit: itchy eyes? EYEBALL CANCER. Sore elbow? MAYBE I WILL NEED MY ARM AMPUTATED. If I get my arm amputated will I still be able to knit?

So today when we were at the grocery store and the van stalled when I was backing out of our parking spot? I started imagining pretty much anything. The transmission is dying! The battery’s no good! I’ll have to take it to the mechanic and as soon as it’s up on the auto lifts, they’re going to find out that buzzards live in the engine!

Then the car started right up again, immediately. Okay, so I know I should still get it checked out. But I should probably also stop freaking out about every little thing. It might help me with the ulcer that I definitely have, for sure, because the other day I had a stomach ache and that proves everything! Right?

I have horrible face skin, partially from heredity (my dad had acne will into his 40s) and partially from my PCOS. My face is oily and I get pimples, but my skin is dry and flaky at the same time. Like, the oily, pimply skin is also dry and flaky, on top of the oily. Not like my t-zone is oily and my cheeks are dry. Everything is oily, and everything is dry. At the same time. Always. Does that make any sense whatsoever to you? It sure doesn’t to me.

I’ve cut sugar out of my diet – well, unless you count the 10 mini eggs I ate this weekend, and the occasional swig of Rob’s non-diet soda. Which I do count, sure, but whatever. This means that we have at least 2 lbs of sugar sitting in our cupboard, not being used (except when Rob has strawberries). We also have a big thing of brown sugar sitting there.What does that have to do with anything, you ask?

Did you know that not only is sugar a great exfoliant, but it also has antiprurigenic (anti-zit) effects? I’ve known this for years (Sassy magazine told me!) and this past week or so I’ve decided to make use of my knowledge. So here’s what I do:

-palmful of sugar (brown or white, I don’t care)
-couple of drops of tea tree oil (because it too is antiseptic and helps with pimples)
-water to make a paste

I use it as a scrub on my face. It works. Rinses off beautifully. I have to be careful though, if I am using the tea tree oil (I don’t always), because it will make the tub really slippery.

Not only do I no longer have the horrible flaky skin, but I’m noticing less pimples. Now if I could only get my sideburns and moustache under control, my face might actually be presentable at some point!

I have been awake since 5:40 am. My alarm goes off every day at 5:40, so that I can take my temperature. Most days I just get up then, because I have to get ready and go in to work. On weekends I might sleep in a bit more (the latest I’ve managed lately is 8 am). But this long weekend? Oh, I have been bad. On both Friday and Saturday I had super long afternoon naps. Yesterday? I was up until nearly midnight. So this morning when my alarm went off I really, really just wanted to stay in bed.

BUT!

I am back to work tomorrow (unless we have MORE SNOW I know I know I swore I would cut this out but we had another GD storm yesterday and it even knocked the power out for a few hours if ever there was a time to start thinking of Argentina travel it is now – 6 months of snow so far aaaaaaargh) and that means I have to actually go to bed at a decent hour tonight. And that means no napping and no sleeping in today.

But oh, the naps, they call to me. The sofa is all cushy. My Couch Nap Blanket is already there! It’s almost as if it’s predestined!
NO!
SNAP OUT OF IT LADY!

The only cure for this is more Denny Crane.

When I was a kid we would have to eat this horrible fish pie that my mother would make. Because, as Catholics, meat is verboten on Good Friday. So of course she would make this pie that involved canned (salmon? tuna? I don’t know) fish, potatoes, and onions. I suppose if you’re someone who can eat fish without gagging, it might not seem that bad, but for my brother and I, Good Friday always arrived like a dark cloud on an otherwise Good Thing.

Here is what our thought process looked like:
“Yay! Four day weekend! No school for a WHOLE BUNCH OF DAYS!”
“And the Easter Bunny is coming! CHOCOLATE!”
“Oh wait.”
“Oh no.”
“Before we can have any of that good stuff…
“We have to eat … The Pie.”

Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn!

We’d always try to just eat the crust and the potatoes, but those evil little flakes of fish would stick to everything. It would take what seemed like hours to finally swallow enough to not be starving (yes I realize that many people fast all day on Good Friday, and that whining about fish pie is probably stupid). I would literally lie awake the night before, dreading the next day when the canned fish came out of the cupboard. One year I tried to hide it, but I was 6. I wasn’t good at hiding anything. I’m still not.

And do you know what? It never once occurred to us to ask Mom to make Kraft Dinner, or scrambled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches, or anything not involving seafood. It just never came to our minds. I don’t think it ever came to Mom’s mind that she could make anything else, either. It was only after I had moved out of my parents’ house that I realized that the Fish Pie did not have to be part of my life.

So today? I made omelettes (cheese, mushroom, and tomato, thank you) and potatoes. My brother and his family had spaghetti (no meatballs).

Mom and Dad had the fish pie though. Oh yes, yes they did.

A little background:

Jian Ghomeshi (the host of CBC’s Q, and member of Moxy Fruvous) is my Fake Boyfriend. I love him, and feel he can do no wrong.

Billy Bob Thornton? Is not my fake boyfriend. Billy Bob took his band onto Jian’s show, and apparently didn’t like it when Jian mentioned that he’d won an academy award. The result was this:

(Even if you don’t usually watch the videos I put up, please watch this one. It’s 13 minutes, but you have to watch all the way through).

1- Jian is incredibly polite and incredibly gracious, even faced with someone purposely creating dead air on a radio show.

2- Billy Bob’s band members seem like genuinely nice guys. Plus they mention Michael Nesmith, another of my Fake Boyfriends (Rob, you have nothing to worry about).

3- Billy Bob is a total, complete douche. “Would you ask Tom Petty what he thought about music?” Uhm, probably. And Billy Bob, you ain’t no Tom Petty.

(Do you have that song in your head now?)
(You don’t? Click here.)
(How about now?)
(Good.)

So, when last I whined about spoke of the weather, it was snowing and freezing-rain-ing and horrible and I despaired of ever coming out from under the 10000 foot snow drift that was occupying our front yard and driveway.

Today, after a week of above-zero temps (today is going to be 9 degrees! Tomorrow maybe 11! And we will just ignore that there is a “chance of rain or snow” on Sunday and Monday, shall we?), the front yard is a swimming pool, the driveway is clear, and I’m prematurely dreaming of visiting the garden center and tree nursery to plan my garden for the year.

Premature though. Very premature. Because while the front yard is lovely and snow-free and tropical, the backyard is a different question. About a foot of snow (more in places). So my planting is just going to have to wait another month or so. And I will just have to keep dreaming about getting my hands in the dirt.

* I wrote this this morning (hence the title) before leaving for work. Then I forgot to hit publish. I GOTS A BUCKET O BRAINS!

I am terrible at decisions.

Terrible.

Back in university my roommate and I were the only two in our particular program, so we always wound up working as a team on projects and such. Plus we lived together (tiny apartment! bunk beds!), so she had to deal with my dithering, my hemming and hawing, every hour of every day. Now, this wasn’t just for important things like whether we should teach a class in Waldorf style or Montessori for our presentation. It was for what colour rubber gloves to buy for washing the dishes. Study at the library or study at home? Wear sneakers or sandals? Luckily, E. was dating (is now married to) a guy with about the same level of ADD as I have, so she was used to it, and (I think) didn’t mind too much. Add to that the fact that she had the patience of Job. And I can’t tell you how many times I heard the words “WILL YOU JUST CHOOSE?!” coming out of her mouth.

And, ten years later, I’m just the same. Rob will ask what I want for supper and it will take me three days to answer; meanwhile he has starved to death and vultures are gnawing his bones.

Now you have the basic information to help you realize why my current Big Decision is making me crazy. My current Big Decision, by the way, is Which Wig is Next.

Yes, I have been thinking about this since approximately December. It’s a huge thing (to me anyway), because I have to stick with whatever I choose for at least six months, probably more. So if it looks like a giant muskrat ass on my head, well, at $250+ a pop, that is how it’s going to have to be.

I first decided that I would buy this one:

…because it’s less expensive than most others, it’s synthetic yet can be curled with a curling iron, and it looks neat. Then I read reviews about it online, and it turns out that it’s not actually that great. Not only does it not come in any colour that would be all that good for me, but it’s very “wiggy”, and the cap shows through. Good as a costume wig, but not for everyday wear. Okay, nevermind, moving on.

I then picked out this one:

… because it’s the same brand that I have right now, so I know the quality is good, and I can get it in the colour I want. But then I started thinking that, well, it’s a long wig. And long wigs tend to frizz up and look terrible within a week, then I have to go through a whole rigmarole to fix them, and I don’t have time to do that every week.

Then I started looking around, and thought maybe this one?

… but maybe not? I don’t know.

So now, I’ve settled on this one:

It’s not super-cheap, but not super-expensive. I’ve never worn this brand before, but it’s gotten good reviews. It’s not too long, so it should last a bit longer before I have to defrizz it. And it’s cute (I think?) and doesn’t look too much like mom hair, right?

I need to decide. By Thursday. Thursday is the day I have set for myself. THURSDAY.

This is killing me.