SHOE SERIES, INSTALLMENT 2







A few weeks ago I went into Town Shoes to “browse”. I should know myself well enough by now that by browse I mean buy. And I did find a sweet little number that made my heart skip a beat, were comfy and would fill that gap in my shoe wardrobe that I always convince myself that I have (the gap never seems to close). I slipped one on and he sales woman cooed, the gal beside me trying on Puma’s told me they looked great and when the cartoon birds and chipmunks brought me the second shoe, my feet were magically transformed. I looked a the price tag, it was totally do-able.
I had a quick question for the sales lady though, about quality. Excuse me miss, I didn’t catch the make of these, could you tell me? Why yes dear, they are by Jessica Simpson.

*crickets*.

Whaaaaaaa?

How did this cat:






go from being badass, to wearing HER




shoes on my feet?

Well, I obviously got over it and bought the shoes, but note to Britney Spears – don’t even try bitch, I’m not buying.

(the shoes are cute though, right?)

Yesterday was completely void of television. It was filled with doing volcano experiments, reading books, doing puzzles, dashing outside when the sun was shining and dashing inside when the heavens poured rain.
It involved a drive out to Nanny and Grandads house where we played Battleship, poked at the frog who lives in my parents pond. It involved strolling through the garden, looking at the beautiful specimens my parents have so lovingly tended to for the past 35 odd years. The girls picked different varieties of mint leaves, crushed them in their little hands and inhaled and marveled over the aroma. They also cooed over the baby zucchinis with their giant yellow flower hats. There were giggles when Grandad pretended to stab himself slowly with a pen and more shrieks when he dramatically removed his thumb (he’s so full of tricks that guy!) There was peace and quiet on the deck when Nanny brought out some snacks, juice boxes and beer.
Later, dinner at home was a quiet affair, outside on the bistro, none of us very hungry, but happy to sit and chatter away about nothing in particular (Edie is particularly adept at that).
There was laughter after bath time when we ran outside and played one of Grace’s complicated games (involving a dump truck you pedal, a pink princess ball, and Edie charging down the driveway in the truck yelling Tractor coming! Tractor coming! all while wearing her best Tinkerbell gown while Grace tried to headbut the ball in the truck loader). Then there were shouts of glee when Jo came home earlier than expected.


There were a lot of shitty things that happened yesterday too, that I won’t get into here. But I’m glad to be able to hold on to the good.

If you had the opportunity to take a 5 year sabbatical from your 9 to 5, do you think your kids would benefit more from you being home for them in the summer/after school at the tender ages of 4 and 7 or the potentially difficult pre- and adolescent years?

Just askin’……your insight is valuable to me.

Have you all been wondering where I have been? No? Oh.

Well, for my own documentary purposes, I am going to tell you. Bluesfest 2009. A little run-down on the fun I had, with commentary:

Ben Harper – he was great. Don’t know a whole lot about this guy, but I liked the music a lot. He also seems to inspire people to spark one, up, so the fragrant air was kinda nice too. Oh, I love that he had a button down on with jeans and loafers. Well played Ben. He did an AMAZING cover of Red House.

Metric- Fun, boppy. Girlfriend looks a lot like my sister in law. Freaky.

Steve Earle – Meeellllloooowwwww. Liked it better when I saw him at Barrymore’s over a decade ago, when you could still smoke in bars. All about the atmosphere I guess.

Jackson Browne – I didn’t know him from John Doe, and while his music isn’t my cup of tea, what I loved about him was that he was so happy to be here. Whenever I looked at him through the binoculors, he had a twinkle in his eye and seemed to be amazed at the reception he was getting. And the 50+ crowd really seemed to dig him!

Brian Setzer – Front stage for this one. The Best. This guy knows what he is doing, what to say and when to say it. It was an awesome show. I was hoping for more rockabilly eye candy (pompadours and tattoos) in the crowd – who is representing the rockabilly crowd in Ottawa these days?

Estelle – she’s actually a great performer. Brought Grace and Edie to this show – it was rainy and icky, but fun nonetheless.

Stone Temple Pilots – I didn’t go, but Jo did, and the fact I found a little note from him the next morning with “I’m in the basement” scrawled on it indicates that it was a good time.

The National – so glad I caught them. New faves for me.

BEAST – impressed me with the ability to keep audiences attention, as they were opening for…

KISS – vocally they suck, instrumentally - meh, but they can perform! It was really fun.

Blue Rodeo – always good, have seen them before, and found them a little mellow. But wow, do they ever draw a crowd!

Paolo Nutini – So glad I cut out of Blue Rodeo to go see him. Great performer, smallish intimate crowd made for a great show. Oh, and he is Hotness.


Yeah Yeah Yeahs – these guys were great! She is a wonderful performer. Kooky and crazy, but she was having a great time. She is such a strong singer and so full of beans. It was great show. Judging for the age of the crowd, I felt like I should be slurping up Metamucil instead of beer, Jo and I were pretty old compared to those around us.

We also saw some wonderful, wonderful blues acts. Real dirty blues.

I’m exhausted, broke (babysitters have practically bankrupt us), a few pounds heavier (so much beer and bad for you food) but will do it all again next year.

I love that Ottawa has this festival. Boo to all you haters. The spirit and vibe is just so wonderful, I don’t really understand how anyone could be bitter about it.

THE SHOE SERIES, INSTALLMENT 1


And your Mother wears combat boots....

Well, I haven’t put them on for awhile, but these babies are probably the ones that could talk the most.

I purchased these little drill boots after I decided to commit whole heartedly to the punk scene. After a trip to the army surplus at the age of 12, nothing else graced my feet for the next 3 years. This was a time of much drama in my life, not fitting in here, not fitting in there, experimenting with this and that. It was also a time when doc marten boots were becoming popular, but if you wore them you also risked getting rolled for them. Terrified of this prospect, I remained satisfied with my steel toe boots, polishing them up diligently on a daily basis.

These boots got me out sticky situations (I kicked a guy in the berries who was trying to have his way with me). They clocked quite a few miles (I once walked to Manotick from Hog’s Back after a night of excess). They got me made fun of. They made me feel tough. I felt complete with my boots, like they were part of me, part of my uniform. Even when I gave in to my mom BEGGING me to wear something nice for a special event, those boots would top the outfit.

They collect dust now, but when I look at them I am overwhelmed with the memories they bring back. All at once I am nostalgic for the good times, sad for the lonely girl who wore them and mad at certain memories.

I’ll never throw these puppies out, and will likely insist that my girls wear them on their first dates.

My Michael Jackson memory.

Like most 11 year old girls, I was crazy about Michael. Innocent and young enough that it wasn’t a lust thing (unlike my ongoing issues with Mike Ness) but rather an obsession that made me smile, dance and yearn to hear his music all the time.

These were the days of Samantha Taylor on Video Hits. I would rush to get my homework done so I could sit thisclose to the T.V. and she teased us with what videos should would be playing that day. Can you imagine in the days before MuchMusic that we were allocated only ½ an hour of music videos a day? At any rate, during the Thriller album days, chances are Sam would play a couple of his videos a week. Sometimes I would get my tape recorder and tape the song off the t.v. (seriously - you can imagine the sound quality of this with the sounds of my Mom making dinner in the background).

I also had Thriller on vinyl, and would play it over and over and over again, skipping past certain songs (Human Nature, The Lady in My Life) and warping the tracks of others (I just loved The Girl is Mine). I don’t remember anyone in the house complaining either about playing these songs so often – maybe I’m romanticizing here, but it seems like everyone liked Michael Jackson.

So, back to my memory. My folks would pack me up every second summer for a road trip to go camping in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Because of our age differences, my brother and sister stopped joining us on these trips and it was just me, my mom, my dad, and the CBC (or the equivalent torture of whatever state/city we happened to be crossing). My folks favour opera and classical music. Like finger nails down a chalk board for an 11 year old (and sometimes for a 36 year old).

Part of this trip included a trip to downtown Boston. This would be an awesome trip because I would see soooo many walks life (Black people! Punk rockers! Hare Krishnas, oh my!) It would also be a fairly stressful trip because my dad behind the wheel of a big ass, two toned green van in a very busy downtown core which he was grossly unfamiliar set his anxiety levels at an all time high. I’m sure the steering wheel (also green) had his finger nail marks on it.

Anyhoooo, I had been whining and complaining on my sticky green vinyl seat about the radio station they had on. To shut me up, my mom found a pop station, and lo and behold, Billie Jean came on the radio.

I screamed. I screamed as if Michael walked right up to the two toned van (with matching curtains I might add) and asked for directions. I screamed like an 11 year old who had not heard her mostfavouritesongintheworld for over a week and a half. I screamed like only an 11 year old girl can scream.

My dad slammed on the brakes in the middle of downtown Boston rush hour. Concerned that he had hit someone or I had seen someone murdered on the street, he asked what the bloody hell was wrong. D-uh! Michael Jackson’s on the radio Daaaad! *Crickets* You know that quiet angry that parents get? When they aren’t quite sure how to pick the words they want to say and it’s really scary? My dad didn’t do it often, but I’m sure the whole of Boston felt the chill that fell upon the big ass two toned green van with matching curtains and vinyl seats.

The radio dial was promptly turned to, and remained on a classical station for the duration of the trip, and I had a walkman for our next road trip.

Rest in peace, Michael, thanks for the memories.

I bought the most beeeeuuutiful shoes on Monday. I am writing about them because I just took them off to put on my sneaks for my lunch time constitutional and I think I actually cried a little when I took them off. I must take a picture and post for you all to see. I would be torn if I was to ever made to choose between a child o mine and these shoes. They are just that Awesome.

I am finding it difficult to find things to blog about these days – p’raps I should do a shoe blog. An entry for each pair of shoes I own, going back to my combat boots from the mid-1980’s. What do you think? Most of them have a story (or two) to tell.

Random:

• Saw Away We Go last night – highly recommend it. What I do not recommend is sitting in front of 6 middle aged women who feel the need to comment endlessly on what is going on in the movie and state the obvious.

• While on the topic of annoying, I done figgered out a new pet peeve of mine (like I need anymore). I HATE it when people use decade+ old catch phrases and think they are funny. Example: Middle aged woman last night. Her reaction to a preview that she obviously didn’t like: “Buh-Bye – snort” (yes, she actually snorted). C’mon lady, buh-bye? Really you think that shit’s funny? It was funny when Dana Carvey did it, in the 1980’s.

• Not sure if mentioned that I was on a roll with only getting intimate with alcohol on the weekends. I made this move after the ever expanding waistline expanded a little too much last month. So, I quit booze, snacks after dinner and mindless eating. And, it has been making a difference. However, last night it was so hot, and the Heineken’s were quite agitated in the fridge (“we’re so c-c-c-c-c-cold Meanie, save us!” ) so Jo and I relieved them.

• My bestie is flying in tonight with her husband for a visit! Yippee! We sometimes go a whole year without seeing each other and now we are seeing each other twice within two months! I love this girl so much.

• We are heading to the cottage this weekend for Absolut. What is Absolut you ask? It is a weekend away with 5 other couples (same couples every year for the past 10 years) where we drink stoopid amounts of Absolut vodka, eat and be merry. We have been doing this since before any of us had kids. The evolution of the weekend has been amazing. I don’t have to do any ab exercises because I just laugh and laugh all weekend long.

That’s enough random.


*for MamaTulip – thank you!

• How do single parents cope when hit with an illness that just knocks you on your rump? Last Tuesday I left the office, pretty much on my hands and knees, feeling death crawling all over my body. For the next three days it took all my energy to get from my bed to the couch and back again. Usually on a sick day I can pull myself together for the ½ hour it takes to drive the girls to school. Not last week. No way. Probably a good thing as I would have scared small children with death-like pallor. Boo virus!

• The good thing that came from being sick was Mad Men on Rogers on Demand. Oh how I love this show. I may have to stay up past my bedtime to watch the remaining episodes. While I don’t necessary want to be a 1950’s housewife, I sure as hell would like to dress like one (with the exception of the pointy boobs – how was that ever in style?) So fun. Such a great series. Yay virus!

• My near death experience last week got me back into my favourite skirts that I couldn’t otherwise fit into – yay virus!

• Almost looking into the light last week has me behind on everything from laundry to cooking to bathing the children to bringing myself to picking up the macaroni noodle under the table that I have been eyeing for the past 5 days. Boo virus!

• One of my dearest friends came for whirlwind visit this weekend arriving Friday leaving Sunday. I know how difficult this was for her as she has three under 6 at home, but wow, was it ever great to see her, and we picked right up where we last left off 3 years ago. Those are the friends you want to hang on to. At least my sickness timed itself well and got of my system before she arrived. Yay virus!

• Being on the couch allowed me to watch the veritable festival of activity that takes place in our back yard. I now realize that yes, birds actually do use the bird feeders, as do the squirrels and chipmunks. And, we have birds living in the dollar store birdhouses that the girls decorated last year! These little houses look like Ugly Betty threw up all over them, but apparently birds like the festive look. Yay virus!

Those of you reading my blog for awhile may recall a darker post about rape . My best friend was drugged and raped after a night out with girl friends. I'm happy to report that not too long ago, my bestie and I shared drinks, laughs and danced to bad (great!) 80's music, just like the old days. While the ghost of rape still haunts, it was a little less present than our last visit together. There is still much for my friend to deal with, and all is not perfect, however, she has sent out this latest update on her case (posted with her blessing):


Hi all,
I have some news - as some of you may recall, the pretrial in the sexual assault case of Fernando Manuel Alves occurred last August. He was committed to trial on only 2 of the 5 counts (2 victims could not testify, and there was no "proof" that it was him who drugged me). The trial was scheduled for June 8-26, 2009.
I have just heard from the Crown Counsel, who told me that he has pleaded guilty. He accepted a plea bargain, in which he pleads guilty to my assault, but the other remaining assault charge has been dropped. The Crown is asking for 12-18 months in jail. We won't know what he gets until sentencing, which I am told will happen some time in June or July. He will be registered with the Sexual Offenders Database, and is required to provide a DNA sample for forensic records.
So there will be no trial, I will not have to testify again, (though in some sick way I was looking forward to obliterating the defense laywer again :) While this episode is by no means over for me or my family, there is finally some closure, and we are all happy about that.
Some more good news on that front, the investigation into Sergeant Asshat, head of the Sexual Offenses Squad of the XXXXXX Police Department has, after significant delays, concluded that Sergeant Asshat was indeed guilty of a disciplinary default in his treatment of me, and he has been removed permanently from that department. We are very pleased about this, as future victims will not have to deal with the "re-traumatizing" I faced in dealing with this individual.
Thanks to everyone for your support, and I ask that you feel free to share my story to educate others, as the epidemic of drug-assisted sexual assault is growing rapidly, and EVERYONE is a potential victim.

Here's to better days ahead,

Friend

Part of this pleases me, for her, for now she won't have to go through the agonizing ordeal of having to testify and justifying her status as victim. Part of it really pisses me off that an act that has negatively impacted her life, for the rest of her life, is worth, AT MOST, 12-18 months in jail. And that there other victims out there, who will not get this kind of "closure" because of the way our legal system works ("So....if I say I'm guilty of this can I not be punished for that?").

And because of my friends strength and conviction in what is right and what is wrong, Sgt. Asshat will no longer work with victims of sexual offences. She fought for this, she did not let it go, no matter how emotionally exhausting it was to fight that fight and keep the case open.

As the days of summer approach and we hit patios and parties, please always be aware of your drink, who you are with, and who your friends are with. These things happen too easily and fighting for justice is damn hard.

Rape doesn't discriminate. All women, of all ages, need to be aware.

International Rape Crisis Hotlines

Has anyone read “Late Nights on Air” by Elizabeth Hay?

Freaking painful by my standards. I’m about 1/8th in, not sure if I should continue or not. Has anyone read this? Does it get better? Not one character is speaking to me….in fact, I’d like to bitch slap all of them right now. The only reason I trudge angrily on is because my Mom swears by it.

Anyhooo, can’t remember who recommended the following, but they were fan-tastic.

The Outcast
Petty Details of So and So’s Life
Elle (is that what it called? French woman abandoned on shores of pre-devleopped Canada? Hides in the guts of a bear?)

More Can-lit recommendations please….I’m in reading mode and want to take advantage of it!!!!!

Are you there God?

For the past few months, Grace has been asking more and more questions about God and church. Some of her friends go to church, and one little friend from school has taken it upon herself to teach my poor little heathen child some good old bible basics.

When I was growing up, I attended church with my mom up to a certain age. I didn’t like church. I didn’t like Sunday-school. The stories they told and the pictures they showed gave me nightmares. I didn’t get the part about being forgiven – it was my understanding that if I fucked up, that was it, game over, straight to hell for me. I also thought the kids at Sunday school smelled funny and the sandwiches tasted strange.

I also grew up in a HEAVILY white, Christian-ish community. Not a whole lot of opportunity to explore difference cultures and religions. In fact, anyone with even a hint of something different about them was the object of scrutiny. One little Jehovah’s Witness girl fueled many a rumor in grade 2 (really, the idea of not celebrating Christhmas or birthdays? That suckths!) And the one Pakistani family in the community had a son who was mentally challenged. In my very young years, I remember assuming Pakistani=mentally challenged. Horrible, right?

Back to the church thing. As you can imagine, I gave up on the church early. Never balked at it, but also never embraced it. In my teens, a *situation* forced me to study the 12 steps of AA. This program has a heavy spiritual component to it that forces you to put faith in a higher power. Rather than embrace God as he stars in the bible, I chose to embrace a loving entity whom I did not call God. And she was a woman. And we made our own rules, and this still works for me today when I need a little hit o’ faith.

Still with me? So, when Grace poses me questions about God and church, I don’t really feel that I am the best person talk to. That brings me to this coming Sunday. I am taking the girls to their first church service at a Unitarian church. This church sounds like Shangri-La to me, where all religions are embraced, explored, and they even have a statement on their website stating that they welcome same-sex couples, transgendered, transsexual, cross-dressing, (I’m sure I’m missing something) peoples.

I hope they welcome princesses. Edie will insist on a regal outfit for this one.

My girls...

and I'm not talking about Grace and Edie. I'm talking about the ladies who make my life a little fuller. The ladies I'm lucky enough to have as friends.

Work has been crazy busy lately, leaving little time or brain capacity to think of much else. I have wonderful women who have ushered cheques to soccer registration for me, signed up and taken care of BBQ fees for the Sparks graduation ceremony, and my sister has been amazing with her arranging and ushering the kids to swim lessons.
I have a new-ish group of gals who have been nice enough to invite me to an all girls' cottage weekend, one of them even kicking in her car so I can come and go on my own schedule. I have my bestie in Calgary, who while I was conferencing, would usher me back to her house each night to make me dinner, watch Rock of Love with me, and most importantly, laugh her ass off with me (her poor, poor husband). I have another dear old friend who recently breezed into town from the West who said she loved me and missed me and who always makes me smile and feel good about myself and leaves flowers on my doorstep. I have another wonderfully special friend from another country, who has found someone to care for her three kids so she can come and visit me for 3 days in June, simply because we haven't "talked" in way too long. I have my monthly Wine and Whine girls who, whether one shows up or all 14, always make me giggle and make me look forward to the next night we can all get together. I have my movie friend, though not a girl, but he always wants to see the same movie I want to see and laughs at my jokes and snaps pictures of dresses in store windows that he thinks I might like. I also have my blogging buddies who I feel strangely connected with, even though I have only met them one time (if at all).

Without these friends my life would not be as full as it is. I'm grateful for them all.

Meanie’s me-me


I don’t guarantee these to be very interesting facts, and I hesitate to get toooo personal on this blog, but here are the 7 facts I came up with once tagged by Jobthingy for this me-me:


1) I hate wind. Hate it with a passion. Don’t care if helps plants cross-polinate. It makes me cold, blows my hair into my lip gloss and just makes me miserable in general. I literally get anxiety when I walk outside and feel gusts of wind.

2) I am obsessed with skincare. I suspect I have a mild form of post-traumatic stress disorder, stemming from the agony of an acne-ridden adolescence. Thank the pharmaceutical Gods for Accutane.

3) I have been thinking about my next tattoo for about three years now. My one and only tattoo is of Skelli, the “mascot” of Social Distortion. I couldn’t very well get Mike Ness tattooed on me, could I?





4) I lied. I have another tattoo. A really bad, homemade tattoo of the letter B on top of my left arm. Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.

5) I have an amazing vinyl collection that I can’t wait to dedicate more time to once I have more, well, time. And by dedicate time I mean be a total and complete geek by alphabetizing, ranking, polishing, buying plastic sleeves for and adding to the collection.

6) Everytime I see something in the garden bloom that I planted I am filled with such satisfaction. I get more satisfaction out of seeing one of "my" tulips in it's prime than I do after completing a challenging task at work.

7) I love that Jo and I share a similar sense of humour, and I can see Grace developing a similar one too (though biting sarcasm isn’t any easier to take from a 7 year old). Edie has developed a wicked party laugh to make us all feel funny.



I’m supposed to tag, but 8) I can also be lazy. So, go for it if you want!

**thanks Jobthingy for caring!**

I am heading out of town soon for 5 days for work. This is the longest I’ve been away from home and its contents (Jo, Grace and Edie). If everyday of your life has been ritualized to the most mundane detail, this kind of trip is a pretty big deal. I joke about the getaway, 4 nights in a nice hotel, meals made for me, trips to the gym, a t.v. to myself but when it comes right down to it I’m freaking out a little because home is what I strive for from the moment I wake up everyday. I eagerly anticipate hopping off the loser cruiser (OC Transpo yo) and getting the car to pick up the kids.

First up is Grace. I hold back a little before I let her see me. She is always engaged in some intense activity with a friend or two. It usually involves tunneling to China or creating highly important, HIGHLY secretive codes for some vital work they are involved in. When she spots me though she usually comes running and spills her news of the day for a few minutes and then gazes out the car window, deep in thought all the way to Edie’s day care. When we collect Edie she is almost always surrounded by friends, with her shoes on the wrong feet, a smudge of dirt on her face and a ponytail gone bad. As soon as she spots Grace she lights up, abandons the game she’s been in and jumps in my arms. The car ride home is the one unpredictable part of the routine – they either fight the whole time or Grace reads to Edie all the way home. I never know how it’s going to go.

Once home, Grace tackles homework, as does Edie (yes, in her world colouring constitutes academia), while I try to create a meal for dinner, all the while berating myself for not throwing something in the slow cooker the night before.

I love the chaos of our dinner table (just because I’m on the verge of yelling doesn’t mean I don’t love it). Jo and I try to eek out a sentence or two to each other while coaxing kids to eat and being an audience to their stories.

I love the walks after dinner. The walks aren’t exactly vigorous, as Edie gets equally excited for any bird/worm/bug sighting, and has a small soliloquy for each event; and Grace, never one to run a straight line, insists on making an obstacle course out of everything to add a challenge.

Bedtime shenanigans I don’t love so much, but when we get to book time, the feeling of their spirited little bodies slowly, slowly starting relax, also help to relax me. And finally, the best part, the love fest of goodnight, with a million I love you’s and passionate hugs.

So yeah, five days without this kind of routine in my life is going to be strange. But, to counter the separation anxiety I’m bound to feel is the fact that I’m staying in the city where my best friend in whole wide world who loves Pee Wee Herman as much I do lives. This makes me a little giddy.

What a drag it is getting older….

Pedicure season, open-toed shoes, girly-dresses and skirts, fun coloured nail polishes. I look forward to all these things every year when the weather turns to a more civilized temperature.

Looking forward to a warm-ish weekend, booked babysitter and a night-out, I picked my super-fun gold nail polish, sat on the couch, dipped the brush in the bottle, twice for good measure, and brought my foot up on the coffee table for the first foot makeover of the season.

Wha? Well hello there big toe, you look a little different. What’s this you have here? A little toupée? How quaint. Really big toe? Was winter so cold that you had to sprout a few hairs to keep warm? Were you attempting a teeny-tiny disguise to play a trick on me? C’mon, I can handle armpits, legs and bikini area, I’ve got a routine down now that’s pretty efficient. But nowhere have I factored in the Big Toe. That’s just wrong.

Blech. What else do I have to look forward to as I get older? No, don’t tell me. This was traumatic enough.

What's worse???

The other day I was in the bathroom, putting on my face and such. I had my tunes blasting away. At this particular moment, Sex and Violence by the Exploited was on. When Grace came round the corner, I scrambled to skip the song, not wanting her to hear it. I was kind of upset with myself for playing it when the kids were around. I've certainly censored what I listen to when with the girls - some themes are just way too mature for them and I don't feel ready to explain certain lyrics to them just yet. The minivan is primarly a Clash, Ramones and Blondie ride. Sometimes Social Distortion when I'm feeling a little saucy.

I got to thinking though, is this:


really any worse than this?:



I think the latter is so manipulative and sneaky...it drives me nuts that this music is marketed towards kids.


Give the Exploited a listen - lyrics aside, it's a catchy, catchy tune!

Get a babysitter – we’re gonna need one!

Bluesfest 2009 was announced yesterday, and I’m pretty excited about a few of the acts! And who cares if they don’t fit into the blues category – this is always such an exciting time in Ottawa for us to kick back and have some fun!

-Jeff Beck
-Ben Harper
*-Blue Rodeo
-k.d. Lang
**-KISS
-Estelle
-Los Lonely Boys
***-The Yardbirds
****-Steve Earle
-Stone Temple Pilots
*****-Brian Setzer Orchestra



These are the acts that stand out for me…..there are so many others on the list. Here’s the official line-up. Who are you excited about? Please fill me in on someone who is The Awesome who is not on my list, I hate to miss out! (Keep in mind that Our Lady Peace makes my ears bleed).

*Jo and I met Jim Cuddy at their last performance I Ottawa. It’s so strange meeting a “star” – I had sweet f-all to say. Kind of awkward actually. “umm, hi, nice to meet you….yeah, great show. Okay then…”*crickets*

**I presumed Jo dead after a KISS concert many years ago. We were living in sin, and he didn’t come home the night of the concert. When I woke up the next morning, he still wasn’t home. When I was leaving for work I looked out the window and there was a cop car parked there. I literally took a deep breath, marched outside, braced myself for the news that he was dead/in jail/in the hospital. Turns out the cop just liked the looks of our driveway to park and get his day organized. As for Jo, in his drunken state, he figured it would be better if he didn’t come at all.
We’ll be going to KISS together this year. Hmph.

***Wasn’t Eric Clapton a member of the Yardbirds?

****I’ve really liked this guy for a lonnnnggg time. I remember at the tender age of 17 heading to bar one night by myself to see him. That was an intimidating experience. There I was with my kilt and mary jane’s on while surrounded by what seemed like all the Hells Angels chapters in Ontario. Great show though, added to the ambience, and there were no problems. Wow though. Those guys were tough looking (so were their girls).

*****Love Stray Cats. Love Brian Setzer. This music makes me happy. Have never seen them live. When I was about 14 I painted the Stray Cat logo on the back of a jean jacket – it was super cool. Well, some asshat also really liked it because it went missing after a party one night. I still scan the horizon for that vest – it was that special to me.

Really?

So Edie (4 years old) had some homework last week. Her daycare gave her a big poster board, with her picture in the middle, with the instructions to put things on the poster that she likes, doesn’t like, whatever makes Edie Edie.
Awesome. Puffed up with pride because she was like her big sister now, getting homework, Edie got to work immediately. I did help a bit. I pulled magazines for her to look at pictures and pick some she would like to cut out to glue to her poster. I wrote the words she wanted on the poster (“I like tomatoes!” and did the cutting of the pictures. Edie glued (apparently 4 year olds do not have much faith in the power of glue sticks, which explains why Edie used a quarter of a stick for each image). Edie used her keen eye to place the images on the poster in an aesthetically pleasing way (I did have to fix the pictures of Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse – Edie would have left them in a 69 position). The result was an endearing poster, with pictures of tomatoes, balloons, the number 4 and lots of letter E’s (4 and E? Nothing is better than 4 and E. NOTHING). As mentioned, also on there, a slightly debased Mickey and Minnie, Edie’s name written in her own hand, and a big ole picture of her Auntie Lesley’s dog, Bogart. All in all, a wonderful effort, reflecting the spirit of an awesome little 4 year old. We handed in the poster last week, anxiously waiting for it to be hung with those of her peers.

Well, the “installation” took place yesterday.

My God people.

I’m pretty sure some parents stayed up way past their bedtime working on some of these. Trips to Michael’s had been made, 3-D images were glued, poster board had been replaced by better quality, different coloured poster board. Layouts were meticulous, small essays had been written, stenciling took place and I’m pretty sure one was wired for sound (well, I’m exaggerating on that one).

This makes me kind of sad. In no way do these efforts reflect a 4 year old’s talents. I know the parents mean well, and kudos to them for caring so much to turn in such wonderful works of art, but this was a project for your child to embrace! To have fun with a glue stick, to pick pictures that spoke to them, pictures that made them happy. It was meant to give them an opportunity to shine on their own – not for you to show off your made craft skills.

Of course I like Edie’s the best, she’s my kid. But I also think we are going have the better keepsake, a good memory of what was inspiring our child at the tender age of 4.

Sigh. Let your kids be kids.

Good boy!

Dinner party last night. Dinner party quickly turned into a drunky drunky booze fest. My parents were babysitting so I made the early exit to relieve them of their grandparent-ly duties. Jo? Jo did not escape so easily. Jo stayed on. Drank on. From what I understand from the host, wrapped things up around 3:00 a.m. The good boy part? He never made it to bed. He didn't even bother. He quietly, drunkenly snuck downstairs to the spare bedroom (which I'm sure was no easy feat because the girls have boobytrapped the basement so every adult foot makes contact with a barbie stiletto or the sharpest piece of lego one can imagine).

I'm so proud of him. He knew not to even bother entering our bedroom in such a sorry, stinky, loud (snoring state). He FINALLY gets it.

*photo not of Jo. Could be though. This is an image from Google Street View.