Return to the Valley of the Dolls - by Squirrelly Girly and Portia

Scene begins - Jenge has just gone upstairs while Margarita sips her coffee on the sofa. . .

J (from upstairs): What medication did you have in your room?
M(sits up like a shot): No! She didn't!
J: She did. What was it and how many did you have in the bottle?
M: Umm, I dunno, 30? but I've taken some.
J: Kay, I got 26.
M: Call the vet! I don't think she ate any, but we can't be sure!
J(on phone with vet, covers mouthpiece and speaks to M): She has to come in and throw up.
M: How much is that gonna cost me?
J: Dunno, but since we can't be positive she didn't' eat them, she has to come in.

Later that day, at the vet's. . .
Vet: Looks like she didn't eat any of them, or if she did, didn't ingest any full capsules. All we found was kibble, a cookie and some black plastic.
- side note: It was "Underworld Evolution" Later found chewed up in my room.

Portia had to spend most of the day at the vet getting her vitals checked every hour, but has since returned home. Apparently she busted into the pills and was more interested in destroying the prescription bottle than actually eating its contents. That dog is going to give me a heart attack!

Ho Ho Ho!

Doggie Dope Dealer

As you know, Rocky is extremely high strung. I can't laugh during tv shows as it sets of a five minute non stop stream of barking and pacing. I also can't sneeze, move to quickly or pet Portia too long as it sets off another barking fit. So, at our last trip to the vet, Jenge talked to the vet about this problem and she recommended an herbal mixture for dogs that is supposed to calm him down. He gets three servings a day.

So, is it working? Tough to say, but the stoner doggie jokes are flying fast and furious around her. Is he calmer? Who can tell? He's wound so tightly that even if he were to calm down by 50% you might not see it. But last night I was able to chuckle quietly to myself and he didn't bark, so fingers crossed!

Working at the CarWash!
So the other day, as I was driving down Crowchild Trail, the sun was shining brightly and it was a gorgeous, bright, winter day.

Too bad my windows were so dirty that I couldn't see squat out of them.

I had pushed it too far, left it too long. Nope. Not even a trip to the gas station and some lovin' from the squeegee would save me this time.

It was time. Time for a carwash.

I love the carwash, and so I'm surprised how long it always takes me to get there. I've always got other things I need to do. Groceries, coffee stop, work, running late. I never seem to have time. But the other night, I decided, enough was enough. When you can't tell if your headlights are on because they are so dirty, it's time to go.

Going to the carwash makes me feel happy, like a child. It's loud and there's lots of stuff going on, but it's all pleasantly muffled from the safe interior of my car. Although, now that I am an adult, there is an added level of suspense: Did I close all the windows? What about the back one that's a little dodgy? Will it hold??

But it does and then the pretty colored foam gets sprayed on and I try to find exactly where it is that it turns pink and green, but I'm only ever able to catch it if I let my eyes drift over the entire windsheild. Scrutinize one point too hard, and you'll miss it. I splurged on the luxury wash, which I consider a deal at 8 bucks. Nothin' too good for my baby!

And now my car is bright and shiny and I'm busting with pride as I stare down at it in the parking lot. Do yourself a favour. Take yourself to the carwash today!

Emo vs Goth

For those of you not in the know (and hey, I'm right there with you), I have recently found out some info that may be usefull. For a while now there has been a new breed of teenager whose look is classified as 'Emo.' Now, you may look at them and see Goth, but apparently calling an Emo a Goth and a Goth an emo is like wearing a wrong colored bandana in downtown Gang City and you are asking for punishment. So I was confused, what was the difference? no one new, so I googled it and was directed to a site that Heidi had previously told me about, Ask a Ninja.

You can find out all about Emo vs Goth here.

If God Made one, Why didn't He make enough for everybody?

Went to see the new James Bond film, Casino Royale, this weekend with my mum. It was great! Haven't stopped talking about it since. Ashleigh (who saw it this weekend too) and I were raving about it via messenger as well. Daniel Craig was hands down the best Bond ever, and if you know me, you know I have been championing Timothy Dalton for years, so for me to boot him off the pedastal in one fell swoop says alot.

And as a side note to all you other action films out there, I can't recall hearing the F-word once (or perhaps I just missed it but I doubt it). No one got totally naked either (although I think everybody was wishing that Craig would!).

For those of you not in the Bond know, Casino Royale was actually the first ever Bond film made and David Niven (if you just said 'Who?' you don't know your Hollywood) played the first James Bond, not Sean Connery. I believe it was also another studio that made it other than MGM (who I think is the traditional Bond studio) and that's why it took so long to remake, they had to wait for the rights to come up. Well, it was well worth the wait. Fantastic! Two thumbs up! On the longish side, so don't drink a big coke or you'll be sorry!

Girly Girl and her Wheels.
I am irrationally attached to my car. I spend more time in my car than I do with some of my friends. I have an hour long commute (both ways) on good days, up to 2.5 hrs on bad (snowy days). I eat in my car, drink coffee, learn greek, sing along to the radio, contemplate life, work on my story dialogue, plan my day and day dream in my car.

When it had to go into the shop last week to get two new tires, I was lost without it. I had my mum's car, graciously and generously loaned to me for as long as I would need it, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't my car. There was no funny rattling sound when I stopped at red lights. No 'Check Engine' light glared at me from the dash. The heat worked great, the windshield wipers cleaned both sides, there was a cd player. It just wasn't the same. I know that sounds odd, you would think I would have been ecstatic, but, sniff, I missed my car.

So much so that when I went to go pick it up, I had a stupid grin on my face after I paid my bill and was told it was outside. 'Hi baby!' I whispered as I opened the driver door and slid in. I re-adjusted all my mirrors and my seat and then patted the steering wheel lovingly. "Did you miss me? I missed you!"

We've been through alot together, Perry (my car's name because he is periwinkle blue) and I. We've driven to Vancouver and back, we've secretly eaten chocolate bars and hidden the wrappers, he got broken into once and I was devastated. We've been frustrated by traffic, and driven late at night with no radio on and only the sound of his windshield wipers whoosing unevenly. We're mates! We're pals! We're homies! He's my freedom to get to wherever, whenever.

Heh heh, oops.
So maybe I was a little hasty with my former blog. Maybe I didn't have a technical malfunction. Maybe a couple of cords got really tangled and I was plugging the camera cord into the camera, and then my ipod cord into the computer.

Damn.

I hate when I spark off about something and end up being wrong.

So here's the pic of the chair. I leave you with the following details:

One sister goes upstairs.
One sister stays down.
There is a crash! A squeal! No reply to "Are you okay?"
And then faintly through laughter a small voice is heard. "Help."
One sister has to pry the other out of said chair by tipping it sideways and dumping her out.
There is much laughter.
Jenge thinks she will recover with only a few bruises.
The chair cannot be saved.

F$%KING Technology!
You're supposed to be looking at a picture I just took right now. You're supposed to be reading along to a VERY FUNNY story involving Me, Jenge and a chair that continues to break, yet we continue to use (I know, you're DYIN' for details). I even took a picture to illustrate.

Unfortunately, my camera is currently not speaking to my computer. Something about one of them said the other one was a luddite and then the other got really mad and now refuses to work.

Damn technology!

A Trip to the Medium
Maybe I think too much. Here's the deal... I found out the name of a Calgarian medium and Jenge and I decided to go. After Jenge and I went, Chantal, Sandi, Corinne, Donna and Ann went, along with some of Jenge's co-workers.

After hearing everyone's stories of their visits, I've found the following:
1. Two different people got told shoe stories
2. Two different people got told about tomatoes
3. Two different people got told they had healing energies for animals
4. Two different people got told about roses
5. Two different people got told about sweet peas
6. Two different people got told that their back hurts because of their shoes

The interesting thing is, it's never the same two people. Am I just being overly analytical or does this seem strange? Is my brain working too hard on this? I mean, the medium told us lots of other stuff that was very specific to each individual and didn't overlap, but I seem to be stuck on the overlapping stuff.

Am I being too thinky thinky on this?

Winter. . .again.

I was out walking the dogs the other day and taking some pictures so I could scrapbook winter. Winter is very pretty. Snow covered trees look pristine, everything looks fresh and crisp with a blanket of snow.

I don't mind the snow and the cold, unless it's windy in which case, I can't stand it. And traffic sucks too. But on the weekends, I like looking out the window and seeing a white, snow covered, frosty world.

Not everybody dislikes Winter!

Portia loves the snow. She goes outside on the patio and lies down with her belly snuggled against all that coldness. She'd stay out there all day if Rocky didn't come inside. She hates to be outside alone, so as soon as Rocky comes in she cries at the door. But while she's out there, she loves it!

A bad case of Ennui

Oh, the ennui of it all! I'm barely able to keep up with all my appointments (wake my mother up by slapping her across the face with a paw, breakfast, napping, turn over, napping, move with the sun, napping, dinner, napping etc etc). Thank GOD my mother booked me in a doggie spa this weekend, I really need to get away from it all. . .

Bizarre!
I saw on the news and read this morning (Scientific American: More than 40 dolphins die in Mozambique beaching) about these dolphins that had beached themselves. It's so bizarre. What causes them to do this? Do they know something we don't? Is it a message? A portent? Or does something just go beserk in their brains and they get a case of mass hysteria/mob mentality? I don't know why I am so fascinated by this, but I am. I can't stop thinking about those dolphins.

Classifying the Unclassifiable

So Ashleigh and I were talking about our books and then she mentioned getting a book on all the genres out there so we would know what they are. This led us to a brief discussion about how to classify our books.
The problem is, there isn't a really good classification out there for them. I was thinking about the authors that I truly enjoy and even they aren't classified correctly. Just because it has vampires does not make it horror, and just because there's a romance, doesn't make it a romance novel. The term 'dark fantasy' was popped out there, but that just sounds sort of kinky and conjurs up 14-year old boys secluded in their parents basement playing a wacked out version of Dungeons and Dragons.

I thought maybe a new title for our stuff would be approprite. Nouveau Horror would be more up to speed, but then after thinking some more, I decided that my stuff isn't even really horror. So, I have come up with:

Supernatural Fiction

I think it accurately describes a bunch of stuff out there that is currently getting shuffled around by my local Chapters into too many categories. I have several favourite authors whose books are under 2 or 3 different genres (fiction, horror and romance - but truly, none of those fit). I also think it accurately classifies my book, without pigeonholing me too much. So, I'm putting it out there to you, the people. Whaddya think?

Is it a pipe dream?

Those of you who know me know that I have been working on a book for quite some time. I've been writing since I was 17 and I started working on My Book in about 1996 (no joke). It's gone through several transformations: character changes, plot changes etc etc, but the heart of it has remained the same, kept constant by my heroine.

Of late, I've been swapping 10 pages a week with Ashleigh, who herself is writing a book. We gleefully exchange pages and ideas; each week nervous about how the other person will take it. You'd think after already giving her 13 chapters, I wouldn't be nervous anymore, but every week I hit the 'send' button and wait anxiously for Ashleigh's seal of approval.

But this week I'm plagued with doubt and anxiety. With thousands of people out there wanting to be published authors, do I stand a chance? I waffle back and forth between "With all the crap out there, how can they not publish my stuff. My stuff is GOOD!" and "With all the crap out there, why would they publish my stuff? How will I ever get a break?"

But I guess all I can do is keep writing, finish the book and see what happens. But darnnit! I want to get published! I want to make gads off money doing something I really enjoy!

Hello, 911? I think someone murdered a Wookie in my bathroom!

Yuck! Ew! Ugh!

Listen, I've got a lot of hair and I shed as much as Portia does. What does this mean? It means that every once in a while I notice that the shower water is starting to creep up my feet as the drain slows down. And then I procrastinate. I hope against the natural laws of physics that all the hair clogged in my drain will go away on its own. I won't have to do anything. It will magically disappear. Like matching socks in the washing machine, it will go the way of the dodo and I won't have to lift a finger!

Except, I will have to lift a finger and drano, liquid plummer and Zap aren't gonna cut it. Nope. I'm gonna have to unscrew the drain and clean it out. Shudder.

Such was the case this weekend. I was dying my hair and had to rinse until the water ran clean. Problem was, I couldn't tell when the water was running clean since the drain was running slow. I was ankle deep in blood red water. Looked like a bad outtake from 'Psycho'. So, I rinsed as well as I could and then got dressed and busted out the screwdriver.

Honestly, you'd think I was bald with the amount trapped in that thing! Why is long hair attached to a scalp so attractive yet the second that follicle is separated from your head it becomes one of the grossest things on earth? I'll run my hands through my hair dozens of times a day and relish in the cool, smooth, softness of it. But get me to clean out a drain of the stuff and I think I might puke. And it's all mine, I'm the only one that uses my shower. But I couldn't help but wonder if someone had killed a wookie and disposed of it in the bathroom . . .

Knitworthy Moment: My First Sweater!
Hey gang! So I took up knitting last December and have dabbled in a few things, but this is my first person sweater (having previously made a dog sweater for Portia). One of the sleeves is a bit tight, but they are both the same length (which I'm told is fabulous for a first time sweater knitter). It has a hood (which is not really visible on the photo), a front pocket, and a generous heaping of dog fur knit into it (as everything I own has been loved by Portia).

It's made out of alpaca wool, is deliciously soft and warm and was completed just in time for fall!

Scrapworthy Moment: my first tin!

For those of you in the know, I am WAY behind the trend of scrapping a lunch pail tin. So far behind the trend, in fact, that it may be considered 'retro'! But here it is, my first attempt. I made a couple of boo-boos which I then tried to fix by 'distressing,' the tried and true method of all scrapping fixes.
Now I just need to figure out what to put in it...

Tattoo You!

Ola compadres! Well, this weekend saw the Squirrelly Girly at her not-so-local tattoo parlour getting inked! Rick, the artist at Strange World Tattoo in Crowchild Square did a faboo job of bringing my 'vision' of the infinity symbol to life (yes, I'm THAT geeky). As an homage to my love for math, a nod to my fantasy-sci fi side and an acknowledgement of my personality, I decided to get a dragon eating its own tail, curled over in the shape of an infinity symbol. The dragon eating its tail is based on the ancient symbol, the ouribos, which depics a snake eating its own tail, as a symbol of repeating past mistakes. Got it done in my favourite color, pink, natch! It's on my lower back and I'm quite happy with how it turned out!

I'd like to give a shout out to my mum, who after much (scary!) internal debate, I decided to tell about my tattoo. I braced myself for recrminations and possibly a lecture, but all mum did was chuckle and say, 'Okay!' Although she did mention all the years she kept my lowerback/bum clean and powdered only for it to be covered with a tattoo years later. Thanks for keeping the canvas in shape, mum!

Press Release from Rocky - "I'm Okay!"

In a dramatic press release today, the normally reclusive Rocky relased a statement that despite the fact that he hasn't been seen on the blogospher in a while, he is okay.

Rocky, or 'The Sock' as he is known to his peeps, had this to say:

"I know I've been out of the blog for a while and I just wanted to say that I'm okay. As you may know, I hate people. I hate all people with the exception of my mummy, Mummy Jennifer, and her best friend Natalie. I'm fine. I bark all the time to let you know that I hate you all, but you won't seem to listen. Leave me alone. Unless you want to give me a treat."

After his statement, Rocky barked for a full ten minutes and then stalked off in a huff. When asked how she felt about his statement, his pack mate, Portia, had this to say:

"Do you have any meat?"

Rocky's people then called an end to the press conference. We'll keep you posted as developments emerge.

Ever wonder what your pet does all day while you're hard at work making sure they have enough to eat and stay toasty warm?

There you go.

Kinda makes you wish you didn't know, doesn't it?

Playtime
When I go to Jenny Craig every week, I generally have to wait for Jenge to finish her appointment first. Since JC usually runs behind, I'm sitting there anywhere from 15 min to 45min. There are never any new magazines, just the same tired ones that a) I already own myself or b) have been there for weeks on end.

But there is a toy chest for people who bring their kids.

Why are there no toy chests for adults?

I found myself thinking about this as I waited for my appointment this week. A few weeks ago I blogged about how now that I'm an adult, I can't have an imaginary tea party or play dress up anymore. Apparently, I'm no longer allowed to play with toys either, unless they are 'sanctioned toys for adults.' (NOTE: I DID NOT say 'Adult Toys' as that conjures up an entirely different kind of thing and this is not that kind of blog!)

So what are the sanctioned toys? Cell phones, pagers, car alarms, car stereos, mp3 players, PDA's, palm pilots, and any sort of established collectable (model planes, model trains, model cars, stamps etc). Veer out of this acceptable range and you get laughed at, mocked, scorned, etcetera.

I want a chest of toys to play with. I want a coloring book. I want fun stuff and shiny stuff and colorful stuff instead of a tired, ratty issue of 'Business Today' (which frankly is 'Business Four Weeks Ago' since the issue is so old!)

Why can't we redifine adulthood so it doesn't have to be so LAME??!!?? I feel like I got ripped off. Like when I was a kid, I would play with my Barbie and she had fabulous clothes and shoes and really glamourous hair and you would think to yourself 'when I get big, I'm gonna get all those things.' And then you got big and it didn't happen because you just don't have that many opportunities to wear a ball gown and a tiara in this day and age. So why shouldn't I be allowed to go back to having my Barbie parties? I know that some adults still collect Barbies, but note I didn't say I wanted to collect them (AKA leave them in the box until they make oodles of money and then sell them later), I want to play with them. Take them out of the box, loose one teeny barbie shoe and complain about it for weeks, buy barbie dresses and change her clothes and have her drive a convertable.

I want a toy chest for adults at the next waiting room I'm in!

Trainspotting
Normally, I'm a driver. I drive anywhere I want to go. Walk? don't think so. Bike? Tires are flat right now. Run? Hi, have we met?

But today I had to go downtown and I didn't know where I was going to park, so I thought, oh, I'll take the C-Train.

First of all, the city of Calgary train system is so unprepared for the number of passengers they have. I live in Eversyde, within spitting distance of three train stops. Did I go to any of those? Nope, you gotta be there at 6.45am if you want a parking spot. So I drive five stops up and go to Anderson, which used to be the end of the line and has MONSTER sized parking. I got a spot, about a mile from the station (okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but you get the idea). Then I stuff myself on the train with a gazillion other disgruntled downtown workers and we're off.

Half way through the train ride, my arm, which is carrying my books is starting to twitch because the muscles are tired and sore. Do I switch arms? No, because I DON'T HAVE ROOM! It's too crowded.

Then I walk the 6 blocks to where I was going.

I decide to leave at 3 so I will 'beat the rush.' HA! After just missing a southbound train, I wait 20 minutes (!) for the next one, at which point, I stuff myself back on the train for another ride. Despite the natural laws of physics, more and more people keep getting on the train which should be bulging at the sides at this point. And then, the high school kids. It's so stuffed in there, and I'm standing so akwardly to keep from falling over that, (no joke) 7 of my toes fall asleep. And all I can think is, "Oh no! I'll lose my balance! I can't feel my feet (except the parts that hurt from standing). God it's hot in here. What is that smell? Yuck! Someone is touching me, SOMEONE IS TOUCHING ME! SOMEONE'S HAIR IS TOUCHING ME!!"

What can I say? I'm squirrelly.

Then I had to trudge back to my car. I had to push the automatic starter and then perk my ears like a dog to 'listen' until I found it. Poor baby. Sandwhiched with a gagillion strange cars all day. And then I had to drive the rest of the way home.

Is this the best that modern civilization can muster? Sad.

Insert clever title here

I thought to myself the other day, 'I'm gonna find a current issue and blog about it! I'm gonna read cbc.ca and msn.ca and all the other .ca's and find something I can really sink my literary teeth into.'

One of two things happened:
1. The world is boring as $#!T and I couldn't find anything I thought was remotely worth blogging about.
2. I realized I am the most apathetic person in the world as I couldn't find anything I wanted to blog about.

So which one is it? Is it that nothing good is going on? I mean frankly, who gives a crap about the majority of stuff you see on the news? Isn't it all just the same $#!T different year? Insert "WORLD CRIMINAL" here and add on a little war-mongering and toss in some dumb politicians and you've got pretty much any year since the beginning of time.

Or is it that I just don't care enough about world issues? I mean, I'm totally shallow and I know it. I don't give a hoop about alot of what's going on. It's not like I can vote on what the government is doing (unless it's election year). No one is interesting, no one is good looking. That's why Hollywood is better at selling ideals than governments. We'll always listen to attractive, interesting people like movie stars. Boring and ugly people show up and we think - "Why would I listen to you? I may end up like you! boring and ugly" And wouldn't that be a fate worse than death? I think so too.

Seriously. We should all be so lucky.

When you just don't get it.

So my mum told me that people have been killing stingrays to 'avenge' the death of beloved Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin, himself killed by a stingray.

As my mum said, wasn't this exactly what he spent his whole life championing against? Wasn 't it his mission to save as many animals as possible? To teach us about these creatures in the hopes that we would work to preserve all life?

So I think there are two things people aren't getting here: 1. In trying to pay some kind of weird tribute to this man, you are going against the very things he was trying to teach us.
2. It's not possible to take 'revenge' out on animals. The stingray that killed Steve Irwin is not going to feel really bad now that you've gone out and killed a bunch of its brethern. The stingray does not feel remorse for what it has done. The stingray did not kill Mr. Irwin out of malice or jealously or anger. Animals kill for one reason: to survive. Either by eating what they kill for food, or killing something that was trying to kill it.

So what are these people trying to prove? Do they feel better for killing another member of the stingray family? Most likely a stingray who was minding his/her own business, swimming in the ocean, looking for some lunch? Do these people call up their friends now and say, Crikey mate! I killed a stingray for Steve Irwin! and then their friends ooh and ahh over this? I don't get them, and I don't think they are getting the point.

Read an article on this here

The Answer is, of course, What is the Sula-wahi-wahi-wantinkah tribe of Ancient Persia?

Don't you feel like Alex Trebek is faking it?

C'mon. You know how I feel. You feel the same way. He's not any smarter than us and definately isn't better looking. Yet everytime one of those gigantic braniacs on Jeopardy get the answer wrong, don't you think you catch him smirking as he reads the answer, oh, scuze me, the question?

As if he would even get past the first round on Jeopardy. As if he has the tanakas to bet it all and let it ride in the daily double.

Don't you think he should at least joke about it once in a while? Say the question was: It is the state that grows two thirds of the worlds eggplant.

And when he reads the question he could say something like:
"The correct response is "What is New Jersey?". Wow, good old New Jersey. Who knew?"

And then he shaved his moustache too. What was that all about? And why didn't we mind as much as when Tom Selleck did it?

Points to ponder, mes amis. Points to ponder.

When it's okay to talk to yourself.

So, I have an hour long commute (both ways) and find myself bored and in my car alot. Sometimes the radio people really annoy me, so I turn it off. Trying to stay awake for my drive, I've tried several different things. Sometimes I wonder what the driver next to me is thinking. See, I talk to myself in the car. Alot. Now, I do have some good (okay, mediocre) reasons for doing this. They are:
1. I am currently working on a book. Sometimes in the car, I work on dialogue, carrying on both sides of the conversation. This helps me figure out if stuff sounds good. There's a difference between dialogue looking good on paper and dialogue actually representing how people speak.
2. I am learning Greek. I will be taking Greek classes at the university starting in October. I wanted to get a head start, so I downloaded some podcasts. Occasionally, I'm supposed to repeat what was said. Sometimes I do pretty well. Sometimes I mumble. But hey, I'm trying.
3. I'm working on a problem. Used to be, when I was working on my math degree, I would logic out math problems. Saying them out loud helped. Currently, I've transitioned this to working out any sort of problem aloud.
4. Sometimes I'm just talking to stay awake.

So, if you are driving next to me in the morning, go ahead, smirk. It's okay. I really am talking to myself.

I hate to break it to you... But you're not that important.

Okay, all you cell phone/blackberry/text messaging freaks out there. Let's face reality. Unless you hold the key to world peace or global domination, you are not as important as you seem to think you are. You do not need to be accessible 24-7. There is no need to take your cell phone with you into the bathroom and talk while you pee (yes, someone in my office building was actually doing this). Anyone who needs to talk to you can do so after you are finished using the facilities. You don't need to leave your cell phone on at all hours in case someone calls. You don't need to be yakking away on your way to work, even if you are working. That's why you go to work in the first place. They can wait 20 minutes. And if you are sitting there screaming at me right now, 'But I am that important,' Honey, you're not.

If you are screaming at me, 'But my boss needs to reach me,' Honey, neither you, nor your boss is that important.

There are of course select times when you do need to have your cell phone on at all times and you need to be available. If none of these applies to you, you need to re-evaluate your place in the food chain, take stock of yourself, and figure out why it is that you think you are the centre of the universe.

Case 1 - You or your spouse is 9 months pregnant - always a good reason to keep in touch
Case 2 - Someone is dying - Whether it's a member of your family, or a friend's, this is a good time to be available 24-7. I speak from experience
Case 3 - You are the president of the universe
Case 4 - You are God

If none of the above applies to you, get the frak off the phone.

Gimme an 'M'!! - Scrapworthy moment. . .

Those of you who know me, know I scrap. The latest thing I wanted to try was scrapping a letter, so natch, I chose my first initial M (no my name really isn't Squirrelly Girly - it's Margarita - true story!).

Here is my latest achievement! Next, I will try to catch up with the scrapping fads and do a lunch box.

"Get Around to it" List

Do you have an "I'll get around to that sometime" list? If you're like most people you do. These are the things that eventually need to be done, but always get pushed to the bottom. Here's mine:

I'll Get Around to that Sometime - A list by Squirrelly Girly

1. Pick up my spare bedspread from the drycleaners - Jenge dropped it off in December. It's still there. I see it in the window as I drive by for morning coffee. In all fairness to me, until April, I thought Jenge was gonna pick it up. But she put the receipt on the fridge and I think I might have told her not to worry about it, I would do it.
2. Get my new pants taken in at the waist - They fit great everywhere except right at the waist. I bought them with the intention of taking them to a tailor. They are still on the floor next to my bed.
3. Change humidifier drum - this needs to be done once a year. I'm on year 3 right now.
4. Find Portia's collar - her tags have gone missing. I bought her a new collar but have put off purchasing new tags, knowing that as soon as I do, the old ones will turn up.
5. Take car to carwash - Chantal has written 'Wash Me' on my car twice.
6. Clean window sills - Blah.
7. Install garden gate - Dad was gonna get around to this, but sadly, since he has recently passed away, this task has fallen to me.
8. Take cardboard to recycling - It is currently in a big stack in the basement. I think Jimmy Hoffa is at the bottom of that stack.
9. Weed and Feed lawn - I have those prickly weeds all over. I hate those things!
10. Take clothes to goodwill - I have them in a pile. The pile was neatly folded. It fell over. Six months ago.

Theory of Time

Why is it that when it's Thursday it feels like forever until it will be the weekend, but suddenly it is the weekend and it's over too fast? Is it really that time flies while you're having fun? Is it possible to be so bored that time appears to be going backward, it's moving so slow? How come they say when you're asleep, it's your unconcious mind in charge, but the unconcious mind apparently does not wear a watch?

Don't you wish you could enjoy every second of sleep and not just have it whiz by in a "But I just went to bed" kinda way?

Don't you wish your weekend lasted longer?

Why does it take so long in the morning for my coffee to brew, but it seems faster at night?

What is it about the human brain and time? Why is it we don't easily recall all of our experiences? Why do only some remained readily accesible in our memories and others are long forgotten? Sometimes I feel like the human brain is actually time-incompatible and that's why we can only remember the past and not the future. Now for you non-geeks out there, you will tell me that remembering the future is impossible, but to you I say, au contraire, mon ami, au contraire. According to physics, the future and the past are just points along a timeline and theorhetically, we should be able to remember both. But we don't. Our brain is only capable of travelling one way on the time stream - forward. And why is that? Is it that it is an inefficient machine, too simplistic for the construct of time? Or are we afraid to use our brains to their full capicities, scared of what the possibililties may be.

These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Stressed out? Me? Of course not!

I'm a high strung person most of the time but if you asked me if I was stressed out, I would prolly tell you no, I'm always this tense. Case in point, whenever I go to Amanda to get my nails done she always tries to wiggle my fingers, telling me to loosen them up, to relax. I tell her that I am relaxed. In fact, getting my nails done is one of the most relaxing things to me.

At the chiropractor's office, my chiro says the same thing. Relax. I tell him, 'This is me relaxed!' Once he ran his finger down the tendon that was sticking out sharply on my neck and said, 'Then what is this?' But it's always like that, I explained.

So, am I stressed out right now? Mental inventory: hmm. Well, I have had a death in the immediate family, but the arrangements are all over. And work is busy but it's better to be busy than not. And I'm not sleeping very well, but my caffeine intake has gone up recently (see aforementioned death in family and work is busy). So am I stressed? 'Course not!

But my body appears to be trying to tell me a different story. My hair is falling out faster than normal (a classic squirrelly girly sign of stress), and I just saw my chiro last week and already I can hardly move my head today and I've gone over and above the daily recommended dosage of Tums (but really, what can happen if you take too many Tums??) and the Advil bottle is getting more of a workout. Plus there's this tight feeling in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.

Dammit, I think I am stressed! But what's a busy girl to do? Yoga? Who has time? Facial? Again, who has time? Massage? Already got one booked but it's not till next week. Sleep in? Who will pay the bills? Exercise? Hi, have we met? I don't think so.

So, like the rest of the peeps in the world who are stressed out, I've got to keep going. We're in this together!!

Paging Rock Hudson . . .

Man's man, ladies man, man about the town, yes, it's Rock Hudson. He was the studliest dudley Hollywood had seen in quite a while. I still watch Pillow Talk and Magnificent Obsession on a regular basis. Sigh, Rock Hudson, you dream boat.

But, unbeknownst to us at the time, he was gay. Sadly back in those days, you had to hide your sexual preference if it was not for the opposite sex. But they say, times have changed. . .. .

Or HAVE they?

My mum told me when she read a biography on Rock, that he said he and his 'guy pals' always made a point of hanging out in odd numbers, groups of 3, 5, etc. Hang out in even numbers and people might consider you 'paired off.' But hange out in odd numbers and it was 'apparently' clear, you were just hanging out with the buds, swilling a couple of brewskies.

Now I hear that Lance Armstrong, Jake Gyllenhall and Matt McConaughey are quite the threesome lately, hanging out all the time. Sure, they could be just good ol' boys, meaning no harm. But hey, this is Hollywood.

I smell a rat!

And that rat's name is Tom Cruise. So I heard on the radio today that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were 'Good Samaritans' to a couple that were stranded by the side of the road after an accident.

Why is it that whenever Tom's carreer appears to be taking a nose dive, there is a media story about him being a Good Samaritan? Saving a trampled fan, a car crash victim. . . .YAWN! Tom, I don't care how many people you 'save.' I still think you're weird. I can still can't belive that the world seemingly accepts 'Scientology' as a real religion, but frowns and smirks upon people who call themselves Jedi's. Why is one totally acceptable and the other the sign of a whack job? Is it the money? The fame? The elitism of Scientology?

And if a person's brain stops making the right kind of chemical's, Tom says this can be cured with vitamins and exercise. So, all you Tom fans out there, don't forget that when your pancreas stops making insulin, I'm sure Tom will set you up with a nice Yoga or Pilates program and some fresh fruit and bulgar wheat pasta. Good as new!

Here's a quarter, call someone who cares - If you can find a phone that works.

Okay, so my office moved and the move was pretty sudden. Shaw Cable (my new best friend) was able to hook us up the very next day. They were helpful, polite and apologized for not being able to hook up our internet sooner. Shaw Cable - You are my hero!!

But, let's not forget the phones. Can't have an office without phones. So I phone my office's telephone company, Melus*. After waiting on hold, speaking to the disembodied voice of the phone system (Please speak your answer now. Okay, it sounds like you are moving. Is this business or commercial? Please speak your answer now. Okay, it sounds like you are a business account) I get a REAL LIVE person who asks why I am calling. What was the whole rigamorole I just went through? Am I on candid camera??!! Anyway, the earliest she can get me in is August 18th.

August 18th. It was July 28th when I called. But what can I do? Digital phone is not available in the new area. I'm over a barrell and she knows it. Alright, August 18th. But I ask her if she can set up call forwarding on our line so it will go to my boss' cell phone. She says she's doing it as we speak.

Flash forward to the following Monday and I go back to the old office to set up call forwarding and am told by the disembodied voice, "You do not currently have this feature installed." MELUS!! You are my nemisis!

And on Friday, the 11th, Melus dude shows up to do our phones, at 4.45, just as Chantal and I were leaving. We weren't expecting him and we have no key to the telephone room (where all the important blinking lights and pretty cable is kept). I explain the sitch to him and he says he will call to see if he can get call forwarding set up. He spends 40 minutes on the phone, gets transferred 6 times and at the end of it all, IT STILL CAN'T BE DONE!!! AND HE WORKS FOR THEM!!

I told him, you know what, don't sweat it, we went a week without it, we can go a few days more. He says, 'Oh, but I get off at 5.30 and I got a few more minutes to kill so I don't have to go somewhere else.'

That sound you heard was my brain imploding.

He SWORE he would be back noon on Monday. What do you think my chances are? Or should I buy a lotto ticket instead?


* Names have been changed to protect the no-so-innocent.

Imagination Station

Well, kiddies, in an effort to get back to normalcy after my dad's untimely passing, I'm back to the blog.

And here's my question for you: Why is it that imagination in young children is encouraged but imagination in grown-ups must be stamped out like a spider found in your bed?

Consider this: When you are a child, you have imaginary friends. You host imaginary friend tea parties. You build stuff out of lego and while it looks like stuff built from lego, you pretend it's a mansion, a shopping mall, a McDonald's. Your parents ooh and ahh over it and brag to all their friends how imaginative you are. You're so creative and bright. Why, just the other day, you put a tennis ball in a sock, tied a string around it and walked it around the house, pretending it was a dog. How cute!! How inventive!!

Flash foward twenty years later and anyone with a hair of creativity left on their head is considered a whack job. If my sister came home tonight and found me having a tea party with chairs set up for my teddy and my cabbage patch kid, Addie, she'd call the men in the white coats. If I decided I wanted to play dress up (in my own clothes, no less!) it would be considered odd, crazy and maybe even a little scary. If I put on my makeup like Baby Jane, Jenge would call the cops.

So what happened? What's the difference? Why are children allowed to 'play pretend' but grown-ups can't? Don't you think we need it more? Who has more stress? A four year old who doesn't know how to spell 'mortgage' or me with a full time job, bills to pay and an hour long commute? Can you imagine how much fun it would be to have a pretend tea party as an adult? Not only could you serve REAL TEA and SCONES but you have WAY BETTER imaginary guests. No longer would I have to invite Teddy and Addie, I could pretend it was Jake Gyllenhall and Dr. Daniel Jackson from Stargate (Shut it! It's MY TEA PARTY!!) and they could be arguing over which one of them I should choose. Who could buy me prettier things? Who would run out at midnight to get Coke Zero when I ran out? Who would mow the lawn and see if they could get the grass in front of my house to come back to life? Who could pay off my mortgage first?

It would be THE BEST TEA PARTY EVER!!

Circle of Life

Well, mes amis, it's a sad time at Squirrelly Girly's. My dad, John, passed away on Tuesday, August 1st. Jenge and I were with him when it happened and he went peacefully. I'd been away from the blog for a while while he was in the hospital, and I'll prolly be away from it for a while again while my family tries to process all this. They say the first stage is shock, and boy are 'they' right. My family is wandering around right now like walking wounded and every once in a while we stop to ask ourselves what the hell just happened? Is this really going on? Did this all just happen? No, can't be. But it is. So there you have it.

For everyone out there that has sent their condolences, my family really appreciates it, thanks. Everyone has been so kind.

Love,
Squirrelly Girly.

The new Lino is in!!

Jenge and I are so happy. We love it! I can't even show you a 'before' pic because it's too horrible. Jenge stayed at home while the installation was being done and she heard one of the lino dudes talking to another lino dude about how awful our carpet was:

Lino dude #1 asked: What kind of dog did this?

not to be outdone, Lino dude#2 proclaimed: He had found enough dog fur under the carpet to make another dog!

Doctor on Duty: Urban legend or reality?

So Dad is in the hospital again. No matter how many times I go visit him, I never see a doctor. Mum, Ann and Jenge assure me that they have seen doctors. They have spoken to doctors. They have asked questions of doctors and gotten answers. But I'm beginning to think that the 'Doctor on Duty' is a myth, an urban legend and they have not really seen anyone, only convinced themselves that they have. In all my trips to Foothills hospital over the years, I have only seen a doctor one. He was very nice. Very tall. That's about all I can remember.

In a country like Canada, I should not have to wonder if doctors are figments of my family's imagination. I should be able to see them milling about, working. I see lots of nuses, nurses aides, orderlies. No doctors.

And don't get me wrong. Everyone I have seen is bending over backward to be nice, and efficient. They are doing their jobs. It's not them I have a problem with.

The health care in this country sucks. We have, like, 2.6 doctors per capita and are the only first world country without a plan to improve that. I think that as per capita stats go, we rank FOURTH LAST in the world.

Yet Stephen Harper lowers the GST from 7% (7 being a holy number) to 6% (6 being the number of you-know-who). And Ralph Klein buys us off like four year olds at Christmas handing out a $400.00 rebate cheque since our province is doing so well. How about keeping the GST at 7% and tossing that extra cash toward better health care? Stop placating me like a child with the promise of a pony and toss that $400 toward some medical equipment.

AND YOU!! STOP BEING PLACATED!! Instead of squealing with excitement over the possibility of another rebate cheque you should be OUTRAGED!! OUTRAGED that your allegiance has been bought and sold so easily. Sure, some people really needed that money, but most of us could have gotten by without it.

OUTRAGED, I say!

Sick as a Dog!

Oh! Mes enfants! I am sick! (insert violin music here) Yes, I have a cold or the flu. Does it matter which? The point is, I am sufferring! Like most of you when you are sick, I have no time to be so. I spend my days convincing myself that I am not sick enough to go home (LIE), that I will feel better after another glass of water (LIE), and that my sudden loss of appetite really isn't that unusual in myself (THE BIGGEST LIE OF ALL - If I didn't worry about my weight, I would eat like an NFL linebacker 24/7. Don't believe me? Ask Donna, she lived with me for 8 months and reportedly had never seen anyone eat as much as me). My throat hurts, my head hurts, my body is all achy-shmachy. At night, I don't so much dream as have paranoid delusions (you've had 'em when you're sick. You sleep like the dead for 2 hours and then suddenly find yourself waking up every fifteen minutes CONVINCED the communists are about to bust down the door and steal your knitting yarn! BASTARDS! WHY would they do that to me? Unless it's not the communists, it's the fascists! Yeah, that's right. The fascists! They want to take my yarn and sell it for double the price! Miserable hunchbacks. I oughta. . . wait, where was I? Is it time to take my Neo Citran again? Has it been four hours yet? It must have been (check clock) Wait a minute!! Those communists have screwed with my clock!! Setting it ahead four hours so I won't get any rest and will work more! Damn Communism!! Dammit!!)

Then you wake up in the morning, drenched in feverish sweat and wonder why you don't feel rested.

It sucks being sick!!

If I was a celebrity I could check myself into my nearest high class exclusive hospital and have cute doctors fretting over me, soap opera like, wondering if I'll make it. (But doctor, will I live??? Will I ever be a world class cellist just like I've dreamed off since I was a poor vagrant on the streets before I became so fabulously wealthy for doing nothing except have my picture taken every time I leave the house? SOB! THE DRAMA!!) But being the real world, I can't face the eight hours I would have to wait in line at the local clinic - nor can I afford to take that kind of time off work, so I schlepp to and fro, telling myself that tomorrow, I will feel better!! Neo citran, Ny-Quil, Advil, Cold FX, Vitamin C Halls - my high end drugs of choice!! My body and my brain are in a war!! Who will give out first?? The body? With its low-grade fever, foggy brain and achy muscles, it appears to be ahead of the game. But this is still early in the match. The brain has a memory! It remembers that you do get well eventually, you just have to keep going! The brain also has a calculator and is keeping a running tally of Mastercard and Visa. They won't take "But I'm sick!" as an payment installment.

Damn this mortal body!!

You Can't SING!!

Okay, kiddies. What's with all the singer/songwriters these days? Time was, you were either a singer or a songwriter. It was a rare breed that was both. But nowadays, anyone who can pen a tune thinks that gives them the right to be a singer. The problem is alot of them can't sing. Can't carry a tune in a bucket. You may disagree with me (although you'd be WRONG!!) but here is my starting list of people who should go back to just being songwriters, if that.

1. Sheryl Crow - Is she popular? Sure. Good Looking? You bet. Can she sing? Nope. If you want to argue this one, listen to "Strong Enough" for thirty seconds. I win.
2. Cheyenne - This one is a new one. I heard something screeching at me from the radio the other day and, my God, it was awful. It was Cheyenne. She should be banned on account of the Geneva Conventions.
3. Ashlee Simpson - Gurl, you got moxy, I'll give you that. And I admit, I like the song 'Boyfriend.' But just because your sister can sing doesn't mean you can.
4. Paris Hilton - Can someone please assasinate her already?
5. The Tragically Hip - Yes, legions of Canadians are now going to be hunting for my hide, but the lead guy CAN'T CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE HIS LIFE!!
6. Raine formerly of OLP - Dude sounds like he could sing, if only he would stop trying to be so artsily anguished. Damn this pop-star life! It's SO HARD!! Sniff.

I'm sure there's more that annoy me, but it's early and I'm doped up on cold medication. Feel free to add your own!!

PS - I've a new link on the side, Doctor Boogaloos Lunch Counter. So funny. Check it out.

Who wants to start a company with me??

Here's the deal. I got my air con fixed last year (needed to be recharged) but then it crapped out about two weeks ago. So I called the place I had it done and they said to bring it in.

When I dropped the car off that morning, I told the punk I wanted the air con fixed. Said punk said it was no problemo. Then I said, since I'm here, can you change the oil? I'm overdue. And by the way, the 'Check Engine' light on my dash is on, but don't worry about it. My dad had someone look at it and the technical explanation was 'Something between here (the dash) and here (the engine) is no connect." (My dad has a greek accent). I explained to the punk that my understanding was the light can't be cleared out until my car talks to a computer and gets the 'code' cleared. He said, "Oh, we have a computer. We can do that for you."

Things the punk left out #1 - Their establishment doesn't do air con anymore. So when they called me at 10.30am I was quite surprised to find out that not only can they not fix it, they can't even look for a leak to see if that's why it failed. A further conversation ruled out them taking any blame for it failing. Another conversation about why I wasn't informed of their no air con service ended with another young punk (a girl this time) telling me that not everyone who works there knows what services they offer.

You know, when I worked at Starbucks, everyone knew how to make coffee.

Things the punk left out #2 - Hooking the computer up to my car is an automatic 90.00 diagnostic fee. FASCISTS!!

So, at the end of the day, I'm left with only an oil change and a tire rotate and I'm out 200 bucks. BARK!!

But I consoled myself that at least the 'Check Engine' light was finally turned off and people would stop asking me about it.

Guess what turned on again this afternoon . . .

What say a bunch of us girls get together, take some automotives class and open up a mechanic shop? Think of how great it would be for women to talk to other women about their cars? No one makes fun of you when you imitate the sound your car is making. No one looks at you weird when you explain that you brought it in because it just 'isn't driving right.' No one jeers at you when they open up your glove compartment and six candy bar wrappers and a tampon fall out. We could hold classes: How to change your break light. How to change your wiperblades. Why what your boyfriend is saying is BS because he doesn't know jack about cars.

Who's in?

Ah, Minutia!

For those of you who don't have enough minutia in your life, feel free to borrow some of mine. Case in point, Jenge and I are putting in lino on the main floor. Reason? Well, as you know, Portia is fond of peeing on the carpet. I once asked my vet why she pees on the carpet and not the hardwood and my vet said, 'Well, that's easy. She doesn't want to get her feet wet.'

She doesn't want to get her feet wet. How about she really needs to stop disappointing her mummy and making her cry when she's sees the carpet??!!! How bout that??

Anyway, to see our top choices click the links:

Choice #1 - Cottington Scarlet
Choice #2 - Deep Bark

Feel free to vote, but Jenge and I really don't care what the general public thinks as long as we're happy.

Girly Girl in the City!

Okay, so I had to go downtown yesterday to go to the library. Being a suburbia girl , this is an unusual occurence for me. I could picture the library in my head, and knew it was on 7th ave, but I didn't know the cross street (duh - Macleod Trail - seriously, how could I forget that!!).

Anyway, I parked at the Bow Parkade and figured I'd either take the C-Train (as I was in the free fare zone) or walk. And do you know what I discovered?

A) Calgary downtown is not nearly as picturesque as it should be - hello centre street C-train station, you cess-pool of activity. You squirrelled me out at 11am - I can only imagine what you are like after dark.

B) Calgary downtown is NOT made for women. My shoes got stuck FOUR TIMES. Twice in concrete sidewalk gaps and twice in some silicone putty gelly stuff that looked like concrete but was not! The last time, I had an armload full of thinky-thinky books (translation - gigantor sized library books) and was trying to figure out how I was going to extricate my shoe while holding 8 thinky thinky books, when some nice woman took pity on me, bent over and yanked my shoe free from the silicone putty squirrelly girly trap! (Said shoe is pictured above courtesy of Target.com). Whoever you are, you were my saviour. Muchos thanks!

It's like when I go to the mall, and they've used that really slidy tile for the flooring. Women everywhere are doing the shuffle step walk because women's shoes generally slide on that kind of tile. But women are the mall's number one customer. If THE MAN is reading this, wake up and smell the lawsuit if someone falls on your slidy floor and breaks their back. DESIGN YOUR $#IT for WOMEN!! I'm sick of no one thinking of these things when it comes to construction and architecture. Ditto for stairs with out risers. You can see up our skirts. We don't like it. Get that dirty smirk off your face, perv!

Save me from Idiots!

Okay, so on this exact date last year, I had the air conditioning in my car recharged. I didn't even know that your air con could die and then need to be recharged, but after 2 years of having no air con, I did a little research et voila. So, my mum helped me out and I was able to get it done.

Flashforward to this week which has been a scorcher and I've got no air con again!

Now, I don't know much about cars, but I consider myself resonably bright so I figure that I can't be that wrong when I think that this does not make sense.

So I call the service station where I had it fixed last year (it is also a gas station). I get some young punk on the phone and I tell him (very politely - I am nothing if not excruciatingly polite) that my air con was charged at his establishment this time last year and it's blowing hot air now. Does he know how long a charge is supposed to last?

And do you know what he said to me?? DO YOU??!! He said,

"How often do you use it?"

A sort of laugh-snort escaped me at this point and I said, "Well, whenever it's hot." and then do you know what he said, DO YOU!!??

"Oh, let it run for few minutes to see if it gets cold."

Are you fraking kidding me? Like I just ran out to my car, turned it on and then immediately ran back in to call him. I politely add that this has been going on for a week, and I have an hour long commute. It's run for a few minutes (like say SIXTY!! - that part was added in an internal monologue) and it's still blowing hot air. And then do you know what he said:

'Oh well, I can't help you out because I only pump gas.'

And then there was a pause, a long pause while I waited for him to tell me to hang on, he would transfer me to the service department. But he didn't. So I said kindly, "Alright then, can you transfer me to the service department, please."

Pause from punk-head. 'Um, I'm gonna have to put you on hold for that." He said this as though it was some surprise to me and as though being put on hold was akin to having bamboo shoots put up my nails. I responded that it was fine, I was willing to wait for the next available service person to speak to me.

The service guy asked me to bring it in so they can check for a leak or something, which seemed reasonable to me. But what I couldn't get over was this punk without common sense who was so unhelpful on the phone! If you don't know $#it about something, pony up and say so and then just pass it off to someone who does. Don't waste my time giving me jack$#it answers!

Seriously!!

Back to Real Life!

Hello my lovelies, I am back from my trip to Nova Scotia. Here's your update on Margaritaville...

Having not been there in over 15 years, it was great to be there again. Not much has changed and I was reminded of a quote I once read (although I cannot remember where from) but it went something along the lines of: the best thing about going to a place that does not change is finding the ways in which you yourself have been altered.

Cape Breton is very relaxing without being boring. From my uncle's bungalow you can sit on the porch and stare out at the Bras D'Or Lakes all day and time just sort of passes. But you aren't bored. Just rested. Sadly, mum and I went to Cape Breton for my uncle's funeral after he passed away suddenly. No one knew he was sick, not even him until it was a done deal. But as we say, he went out with his boots on.

We had fairly good weather on most days. Some rain, but some sun too. Mum and I drove around the Cabot Trail, did some shopping at gift/souvenir shops and Mum pointed out some of her old stompin' grounds. I got to meet some of my cousins kids. Then we spent two days in Halifax. We went to the Casino, pretty much broke even (whoo hoo!) and I walked along the boardwalk and shopped some more. Halifax was very easy to get around in and we had fabulous weather while we were there, sunny with a nice breeze off the habour. Can't ask for much more than that.

So, here I am, back home again. I'm just finishing up my holiday laundry. I like to wash everything when I get home from vacation. It sort of like my own personal reset button for my life. I missed Portia and Rocky terribly and in a perfect world they would have missed me too, but I fear that as long as there is someone around to drop kibble in their bowls, it really doesn't matter who it is!

The Power of Three . . .

They say things always happen in threes, so I hope my famille is all done for a little bit . . .

We had two deaths in the family (one expected, one unexpected) and then my brother-in-law was in a car accident last night (but he's OKAY!!).

So, mes enfants, I will be away from my blog for a little bit as I'm off to Cape Breton with my mum for some family time. . . . I'll be back July 5th. No new posts till then . . ..


Love,
Squirrelly Girly

Can you afford $20 bucks a month? Can any of us afford not to?

I watched Anderson Cooper 360 this week because Angelina Jolie was on. She was discussing her refugee work. It was unbelievable. Anderson Cooper was also talking about the things he had seen. Things I can't even type. Horrible acts against humanity.

In a world that goes to war over oil, how can we stand by silent as atrocities are being committed against our fellow human beings? How do the leaders of the world sleep at night knowing these things are going on and that not enough is being done? 6 million people without a home, without a country to protect them. Jenge and I sat in stunned silence the entire time, the only sound being when something so horrible was said or shown that a sort of choked exclamation escaped our lips.

Children kidnapped and brainwashed. Forced to become killing machine soldiers before reaching puberty. Women assaulted so horrendously they will never physically recover, to say nothing of the emotional toll. Families torn apart and people starving. Starving! Look around you! How much waste do we have that they would be grateful one hundred times over to have?

So, if you think you can affaord 15, 20 or 25 dollars a month, sign up to make a donation with the UN High Council for Refugees . If you can't afford to make a donation, tell everyone you know about this, maybe they can afford to donate. And if they can't, tell them to tell everyone they know. Because the worst thing we can do is what we've been doing. Staying silent.

The Big, Fat, Puppy Version of FU (and I don't mean Felix Unger!)

So. Yeah. Portia's been peeing on the carpet again. Is it because she's crying and I don't wake up? I don't know. But Mummy Jennifer has decided it's time for the hammer to fall. "She sleeps in your room, or in her kennel. None of this traipsing around the house all night."

Sniff. Kay. You would never guess I'm the older sister. But I do agree with Jenge. It's just that I'm a softie!!

So I bring Portia upstairs last night and set up the baby gate to keep her from going downstairs. This morning, she cries. I groggily stumble out of bed, stop off at Jenge's room to get Rocky and the three of us head downstairs.

I go to the laundry room to turn off the alarm and when I step back out (all of 2 seconds later) she is peeing on the carpet RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! STARING ME IN THE EYE! I was so stunned a made sort of a 'glick' sound and then stammered: SHAME! SHAME ON YOU!! SHAME! SHAME!!

Like she cares. She's already sauntered over to the food bowl and is looking at me as if to say 'Why is there no kibble in her yet, bee-atch?'

She didn't even care!! And I was two seconds from opening the door and letting her out!! You telling me she couldn't even wait two seconds!! Glick!!

She totally flipped me off in dog language!! She didn't even CARE!!

Relativity

Yes, Einstein really did have his finger on the pulse of the world. It's all about relativity. Case in point: to my best friend Donna, I am an uber geek. I love Sci-Fi, read math books for fun, and actually have a comic book collection. On Donna's geek-scale, I am a 9.5. The 0.5 being the room needed for spontaneous geek stuff I do that she just does not have the capacity to imagine.

However, being a proud card-carrying member of the geek club, I know that my geekdom is actually pretty low on the geek-o-meter. I've been to Star Trek Conventions, and let me tell you, I'm only about a 5 or a 6 in comparison. I don't have a action figure (aka Doll) collection, I don't have Star Trek posters plastering my room (okay, okay, I used to but not anymore), and I actually get out into the real world and am quite social when needs be (although I would prefer to stay at home and watch re-runs of Stargate).

But I am proud of my geekiness and wear it like a badge of honor. Geeks are the most open minded people I know. They are always willing to let their imagination run free to see where it will go. I would go so far as to say that geeks are the most optimistic, good natured people on the planet. We truly beleive that one day, we will be able to solve the world's problems with science and we will finally be able to put all our differences aside and joing globally, and then universally (like the Star Trek Federation). It won't matter what you look like or how you dress, we will all be the same, striving for a better world. Human curiousity will lead us to unimaginable places and things. Hopefully, it will be the geeks that make first contact. It's the best chance of things going well. Honestly, if you were an alien, who would you rather meet? Enthusiastic, scientific, good-natured people with a love for technology or power hungry, war mongering, suspicious politicians?

Lead on Geeks!! I am but a humble follower of your ways!!

Poor Portia!

My poor puppy! Not only did she not get chosen to be in this year's ARF calendar (for which I submitted FABULOUS pics of her) but rainy days always get her down. She just lies around and sighs dramatically all the time. Plus I really thought we had a good chance for the calander as she is sooooooooo photogenic!! Honestly, how could anyone say no to this face???!!!???

Guilty Pleasures!

It's the stuff you don't tell your best friend about. You couldn't stand to see the look of horror on her face. I came clean to Jenge but I can't take the shame anymore! The only way to purge myself of the shame is to tell everyone about my latest guilty pleasure!


I love to work out to the song 'Boyfriend' by Ashlee Simpson.


Oh the SHAME!! THE SHAME!! But I find it so catchy! And it's the perfect beat for my running pace!

THE SHAME!!

All Shopped Up!
Well, my yearly shopping quota was low but my trip to Great Falls, MT, topped me up for the year. The girls and I had a FABULOUS time!

We left Friday at 4.30 and made it to Great Falls around 9.30ish. After some quick nibbles at the Tony Roma's we donned our suits and headed for some hot tub time. Ahhhhhhh, so relaxing after the drive (during which it rained Cats and Dogs! Kudos to Heidi for driving through it!)

The next morning at 9.30, we fueled up at breakfast and set our game plan: Harley Davidson store (for Donna to pick something up), craft store (for me), Target and then the mall. The craft store was a dissapointment to me since I had a list of stuff I had taken off their website, but the store had less than 10% of their online stock. However, we did pick up some super cute Vintage Vogue patterns (for sewing) which Heidi informed us were so cheap they were practically illegal! (3.00USD compared to 33.00 CAD. Yes, you read that correctly)

Then we hit Target. We found lots of good buys and I did some heavy duty Mastercard damage. After that - the mall. In an unbelievable turn of events, the mall's food court wouldn't have even impressed a defector from 1980's Communist Russia (a subway, an orange julius and the Posh Taco - which was so far below Posh that words fail to describe it). We ate at the Posh Taco and then hit Sears, Herbergers, JC Penny, Bath and Body Works and Victoria's Secret. All in all, we finished at 5.30 and stopped for Starbucks. Yum. Starbucks. I navigate around the world by where the Starbucks' are. Heidi had the best "Discount" total. Regular price 125.00, Heidi paid 13.00. Gotta love a sale!!

We had a world-class dinner at the Beargrass Grille. I had the stuffed pork tenderloin, Donna had the Ahi Tuna, and Heidi had Salmon. All of us had too much wine. At one point, we were laughing so hard we couldn't speak! And then it was off to the Tiki Bar known as The Sip and Dip, where there is a glass pool (like the kind you see at Sea World or the Zoo) where people dress up like mermaids and wave through the glass. We were treated to a mer-man who spent his breaks chatting Donna up. I won at the VLT's and at the end of the evening, we're not quite sure how, our bar tab was only $24.00. And we'd been drinking for hours. SCORE!! We cabbed it back to the hotel, Heidi passed out, Donna and I ate Cheetos and then donned our suits for one more trip to the hot tub. We finally crashed into bed at 3 but were suprisingly not hung-over the next day (Donna and Me - Heidi was hurtin'). We hit the shoe store, the Michael's, the Old Navy and the grocery store and then it was back home to Canada! I missed the puppies terribly, and it made me so happy to see how happy Portia was to see me! GREAT WEEKEND!!

Hostage!

My name is Rocky and for the last two and a half years I have been held hostage. My captors are two biped gigantors and a four legged freak named Portia. The bipeds calle themselves Mummy Jennifer and Mummy Margarita. I am at the mercy of my captors who decide when I eat, how much I get, whether I can go outside or stay in. I am forced to sleep on only the small corner of a queen size bed. Sometimes the freak, Portia, stands guard at the door and won't let me in or out. I'm forced to do stupid tricks with bizarre names such as 'Shake a Paw' or 'Roll Over.' Portia guards the bones and I never get to chew them or play with other toys unless they are hidden from her and only taken out for me in secret. They torture me with a terrible ritual known only as 'Grooming.' I don't know if you will get this message but if you do, send help. Send kibble.

Craft Ho Redux!

Okay, so you already know I am a Craft Ho. I scrapbook, make my own cards, knit. And I'm a type A personality who can't wait to start projects. So where does this leave me?

I'll tell you where this leaves me. It leaves me at 10pm at night trying desperately to find a place in Calgary that has a set of Size 17 inch Double pointed needles!

Honestly, my heart rate is up and so is my blood pressure, because I've already started knitting and I'm at the point where I need to switch to those needles and I. CAN'T. FIND. THEM.

I could go ebay, but that might take weeks! Same with a yarn store I found online! My only option left is to call the other yarn/knitting stores in town tomorrow to see if they carry them.

And if you're thinking, oh, try Michael's! I say to you, get out of the kiddie pool you freak. As if I haven't already. I already had to buy a set of size 15 -25" circular needles and MacGyver them (ie cut them down to 16" and then tape together) cuz they didn't have that either! Craft superstore my a$$!

Now to you, this is not serious. This is prolly quite amusing (and possibly a little frightening given my reaction), but to me, this is hard core, nerve-wracking, heart-palpatating business. I use my crafts to relax, DAMMIT!! AND WITHOUT THEM I CAN'T RELAX!! I HAVE BEAUTIFUL ALPACA YARN BEGGING TO BE KNIT. I HAVE CHOSEN MY COLORS METICULOUSLY. I NEED MY NEEDLES! SOB!

The next person to tell me this is not really a big deal is getting a knitting needle shoved up their nose. And then we'll see how serious this is!

Mini Break!

Mes amis, it is time for a mini-break! For those times when you are too broke and too busy to take a real vacation, a mini-break is what you need to take the edge off. This weekend, the girls and I are headed for Great Falls, MT. The Canadian dollar is rockin' and it's time to go-a-shoppin'!!

I just found out that the Wal-Mart there is open 24-7. Un-freakin'-believable! So you really could dash out at 2 am because you JUST HAD TO HAVE a new pair of shoes.

K-Mart, Target, Wal-Mart, JC Penny, the craft store and Victoria's Secret. I'm about ready to put my mastercard to the test! Who will crack first? Me from exhaustion or it because it's MAXED!

Of course it will all be for naught if we get stopped at the border since Donna doesn't have a passport or birth certificate (Seriously! Damn Quebecois don't issue birth certificates, can you believe that? If I get stopped I'm sending a NASTY letter to the Bloc Quebecois! Of course, it will prolly get lost with all the other NASTY mail they get. . . ) D! It's not your fault!

But since we don't look like trouble, I'm pretty sure we'll be okay. The only trouble we're gonna cause is:
a) spike in the USA GDP
b) girly martini night at the sip and dip
c) hogging the sauna

Whoo hoo! Mini Break! I can hardly wait!!

Sibling Rivalry

Growing up in a family of three girls, we were always fighting over something. I don't know if it's the nature of sisters, or just siblings in general, but there is always something to compete over. I always compared myself to my two sisters. How were my grades in comparison? How was my hair? My stuff (music collection, clothes etc). Someone always wanted what you had, meanwhile, you were wanting what someone else had.

While age changes somethings, there are some feelings that never go away. I still feel like I am always measured best when put up against my sisters. Case in point, Jenge and I are doing a running program right now. We're both pretty out of shape, and we want to be in shape, so running seemed like the best idea. On days when I don't feel like doing the program, as soon as I find out that Jenge has already done her training for the day I'm like, 'Oh it's ON!! I'm gonna go right now! No way she's gonna get fit before me!!' If Jenge stays on plan, I must stay on plan.

Now we are all signed up for Greek lessons together, and I can't help but think, 'Here we go again.' Ann was the first to sign up and as soon as she did, I did. Then Jenge. I've already downloaded Greek Podcasts to brush up on my greek and Jenge is talking about getting herself a Greek-English dictionary so she can referesh her reading skills. Is this a strong desire to finally learn the language? Doubtful since we've had our whole lives to do it and haven't yet. It's got to be the spark of knowing we will all be in class together. Taking tests, filling in worksheets, speaking out loud. And no one wants to be the sister that doesn't get it.

But don't get me wrong, I don't think sisterly rivalry is a bad thing. We push ourselves farther because we know we can do it. Would I keep up with the running program if I didn't have Jenge? Who knows? Would I push myself as hard to learn Greek if I didn't know I'd be going head to head with Ann? Probably not. And who better to compete agains than someone who:
a) comes from the same gene pool?
b) you've known your whole life?
c) will help you if you start to fail?

Because, while we sometimes compete with each other, none of us likes the others to be left behind and will give help when help is needed.

So it can't be a bad thing! Yeah, I think nodding to myself, it's a good thing. But I gotta go, I gotta get Podcast #5 deciphered before the end of the day if I want to compete in the Greek War!

Fess up to your Strange and Bizarre Celebrity Crush!

We've all got 'em. Those celebrity crushes no one but you understands. And I'm not talkin' about your Brad Pitt's or your Angelina Jolie's. I'm talking about the ones that make your friends stare at you with a mixture of confusion and horror. So, come on! Let it out and tell the world. I'll go first. . . .


My Strange Celebrity Crushes - By Squirrelly Girly
1. Peter Jennings - Loved this man. He seemed so smart! So worldly! So gentlemanly!
2. Anderson Cooper - He, too, seems very smart and well spoken. Snazzy dresser.
3. Jeff Probst from Survivor - You may think this one's not weird, but given that I'm almost 5'11'' and I hear that he is short, it's out there for me. I think it's because he always looks so clean and well-pressed next to the slugs that are competing for a million bucks.
4. Rick Springfield - Years after he was in the zone, I will still stop and watch 'Hard to Hold' when it's on TV.
5. Richard Dean Anderson - Same as Rick Springfield. I've got all of MacGyver on order from zip.ca. Stargate SG-1 - Got some eps on DVD. C'mon! It's RICHARD DEAN ANDERSON. You know once, in Grade 4, my best friend at the time, her mum worked for the Calgary Herald and she told us that Richard Dean Anderson was in her building one day! We squealed like only 9 year old girls could! We were stunned! We were like, "DID YOU TALK TO HIM? Omigod! DID YOU??" and she was like, what do you want to hear, that I grabbed him and kissed him? We squealed even louder! It was the best part of evening. I think we saw Crocodile Dundee that night. . .

Don't be shy, mes enfants!! Tell me your strange celebrity crush!!